


Fieschada

by Airanke



Series: Lascivious Ophidian [1]
Category: WoW - Fandom, World of Warcraft
Genre: Also but under Multi for category because of NPC relationships, F/M, I'm really not going to tag this with ALL of the chars that are in it, Multi, So many NPCs holy shit, That's too many
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:40:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 80,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22440466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airanke/pseuds/Airanke
Summary: FIESCHADA“A strong, instantaneous attraction to someone upon first meeting each other; ‘love at first sight’”.
Relationships: Vol'jin (Warcraft)/Original Female Character(s), Vol'jin / Amita
Series: Lascivious Ophidian [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614760
Comments: 11
Kudos: 25





	1. I Miss You

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoy the beginning of what will be an epic tale (I hope), spanning over all of the WoW expansions, and focused primarily on my in game druid, Amita. Several of my friends' characters will appear in this story as well!
> 
> In this chapter we have:  
> An'jen, and her family, who belong to my friend Druidickats.

The isles were beautiful. Jungles grew wild and free. Powerful roots shaped the landscape, forcing everything else to conform to their winding path. Beaches that stretched for miles lead into the sparkling sea, and the sun that warmed the shores.

Here, the Darkspear tribe had come after being exiled from the jungles of Stranglethorn. Their current chieftain, Sen’jin, had dubbed it First Home. They set up their lodges and huts, and grew in number, being careful to always appease the great Loa that sometimes came to walk among them.

This had always been Alba’vida’s home.

She ran her fingers along the snout of her raptor, a fierce beast she’d called Jashik. Her eyes scoured over the horizon. There was no threat that she could see: no naga, no murlocs, no boats. Nothing that would bring harm to her people.

A sigh escaped her. She rose to her feet, whistling to Jashik. He trailed after her as she made her way further and further from the large village, hand resting against her bulging stomach.

Too soon.

_Too soon._

* * *

It stormed.

Wind howled through the cave, and Alba’vida was only grateful because it drowned out her pained cries when she couldn’t hold them back. Sweat poured down her forehead. She had a pile of furs on the ground, and Jashik was pacing nearby.

There was nothing the raptor could do to help while Alba’vida braced herself against the cave wall. She dug her nails into the stone.

A flicker of light made the huntress tense. It was difficult enough to deliver a child on her own without the added stress of what the light might bring.

It certainly had not brought thunder.

Jashik too, lacked making any response, and Alba’vida furrowed her brows. She didn’t have to endure this pain much longer, just a few more pushes--

“Bwemba?” Alba’vida said in disbelief - and her eyes widened when the powerful woman was followed by _him_.

“Lie down, Alba.”

She found herself ignoring Bwemba, her gaze entranced - as always - by Deonte’s emerald pools.

“You should not be here.”

“You should not have exiled yourself.”

“I’m doing _fine_ on my own - and they would have cast me out anyway,” Alba’vida spat. Did he not _realise_ that his _reputation_ was at stake? That even _if_ he was powerful, and even _if_ he had been a part of the Darkspear for years before Sen’jin had even been born, he still had to answer to the tribe elders?

They would never approve of something like this.

“Let me help you,” Deonte sounded like he was begging, and when he grasped her hand and pulled it away from the wall Alba’vida felt lightning course up her arm, “this is my fault. I wasn’t careful, and you’re paying the price.”

Maybe it was the way he held her hand. Maybe it was how he cared.

Maybe it was how his eyes, and his tattoos came to life when he held their daughter in his arms.

She listened.

* * *

“Drepani.”

Alba’vida was busy nursing her daughter. Loa, this child was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

“Drepani?”

“Yes,” she looked up at Deonte. He had been busy braiding his hair, though now he was watching her intently. She held Drepani a tad closer to her breast, feeling self-conscious, “do you… not like it?”

A startled laugh escaped him, and his attempt to stop it from pouring past his lips left the braid he had been working on to unfurl. Heat rose to Alba’vida’s cheeks at the sight. He shook his head, “no, no. It’s a beautiful name.”

“What would you call her?”

Deonte’s eyes fell on the baby. He gazed at her for several minutes before finally looking back up at Alba’vida, his expression warm.

“Amita.”

* * *

Snakes were curious critters.

They were slow in their movements until they felt threatened. Some would coil together tightly, tails rattling, ready to strike. Others would fly through the underbrush, moving at lightning speed over leaves and sticks and rocks. Others still would dash for water, sliding into the liquid and disappearing beneath the surface.

Drepani did not fully understand her mother’s panic when the older woman found the four year old sitting in a nest with not only dozens of baby snakes, but the mother as well.

“Drepani!”

“Muuka! Looka’ dese--um-- dis!” she held out both hands, baby snakes writhing about between both palms. She yelped when one of them fell to the soft leaves below, “ah! She fell!”

“What are you doing in-- she?”

“Ehyeah!” Drepani tilted her head at her mother, confused. Shouldn’t her mother know that the little snake that fell was female, and that the one curling over Drepani’s thigh was a boy, and that the two that were fighting just in front of her were both girls, while the one that had somehow crawled up Drepani’s back and coiled around her ear was a boy?

“You dunno’, muuka?”

Alba’vida had to stand still for a moment. Drepani hesitantly lowered the baby snakes back down to the ground. She broke up the scuffle between the two little females, unhooked the one on her ear, and shooed the one on her thigh away. She couldn’t help but think that perhaps she had done something wrong. Drepani pulled what she could of her short hair over her shoulder, twisting it together nervously.

The adult snake wove between her feet, seemingly unbothered by the little girl’s presence.

“I- I don’t, fen’di. How… how do _you_ know?”

Drepani stopped twisting her hair, cheering right back up, “dat's so easy muuka! The, the boys have thicker tails,” she snatched one up off the ground, walking toward her mother and showing her the snake, “see!!”

She had to stand on her tiptoes, and Alba’vida crouched in front of her, looking at the snake struggling in Drepani’s hand.

“And and the girls have de um thinner tails!”

Alba’vida looked like she was at a loss. Drepani’s excited expression faded quickly, and she lowered her hands and lowered her eyes. She set the small snake back on the ground and started twisting her hair again.

“... sorry.”

“What?” Alba’vida made a sound that was close to a laugh, then pulled Drepani to her chest, “no! No, I’m not upset. I’m just... amazed.”

She cupped Drepani’s cheeks in her hands, a smile crossing her lips, “when did my fen’di get so smart?”

All Drepani could do was giggle, wrapping her arms around her mother’s neck.

“Well? Is she going to give me an answer?”

“Nooooo.”

“So, I have to tickle it out of her?”

“NOOOO!!” 

Peals of laughter sounded throughout the jungle.

* * *

Jashik had taken a liking to Alba’vida’s little girl. The next time she found Drepani, the little girl was racing through the trees with a pack of raptors, Jashik close by her side.

“Fen’di!” her mother cried; but the young girl, high on adrenaline, laughed to the wind and picked up the pace. The raptors followed suit, running on either side of her, and eventually, they were racing along the beach.

Drepani didn’t quite have the stamina of the beasts she ran with - but when she was forced to stop, legs shaking, the raptors stopped with her. Jashik nudged his way closer to her side, churring at her in concern.

“Mm mm I’m… okay,” Drepani panted, wiping sweat from her brow. She was leaning over her knees, trying to catch her breath, when voices caught her ear.

She looked up.

_‘… eh?’_

There were other trolls. They were looking at the pack of raptors curiously, and Amita hugged close to Jashik’s side. A growl rumbled in the raptor’s throat, and he began to tap his feet impatiently.

_‘Muuka never said anything about other trolls being on the island_ ,’ Drepani felt betrayed. Why had her mother not _told_ her about these other trolls? She could have made friends - maybe. Something uncomfortable began to build itself up in her chest, like a bad feeling. Like a coiled snake that felt threatened.

As she moved closer to Jashik, she saw him - and realized just how close she truly was. It was easy to make out many of his features.

Drepani wondered if the adults could see her for but a moment, before the boy distracted her again.

He looked to be her age, red hair loosely styled upward but too long to stay upright. He had blue-tinted skin, and this close to him, he looked like he had spots along his back. The large ears he had twitched.

His eyes were a beautiful, molten orange, like the sun. Drepani could feel her face growing warm. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.

A clap of thunder made her gasp, and the other trolls scrambled amongst themselves. They were yelling. One of them grabbed the boy roughly by his arm, but his gaze was still fixed on her, until finally he was yanked away. The beach descended into chaos.

Drepani did not understand.

Jashik let out a fierce roar. The girl found herself swept onto his back. She clung to his neck with all her might as he led the pack of raptors swiftly back into the jungle, and undoubtedly, back to Alba’vida.

Clashing metal and screams of agony slowly became a distant sound.

She ran crying into her mother’s arms.

* * *

_He was so… beautiful._

_Black leathery skin that shone red in the light. Gold and silver decorations were on his body. There was no word for what they were or why he wore them. Bone spikes stuck out from the plate on his chest, and ones that ran along his spine, and lastly, ones that spread out like a fan from the impressive helm on his head - at least, they looked like spikes, and they were colored like bones._

_He tilted his head._

_The feathers were red and orange and a weird blue color._

_His eyes were white, but not pits. Not empty, full. Full of life._

_He was calling to her._

_Calling._

But it was a song that Drepani did not understand, and she sat up blearily, rubbing at her eyes, squinting at the mouth of the cave. Her small ears informed her that there were voices outside.

Excited, she lurched to her feet, tripping on the blankets. She landed flat on her face, yelping in surprise. The little girl picked herself right back up, racing out of the cave--

She caught sight of his back this time.

Drepani’s eager mind burned the image of the flower that danced along the right side of his body into her mind.

“What’d he bring me _what’d he bring me!?”_

“Drepani-- what happened to your _face?!_ ” Alba’vida exclaimed, dropping to her knees. Excited, Drepani danced in place.

“What’re you talkin’ ‘bout muuka?” she asked, looking for whatever it was the man had brought. Before, she had been too young to remember, and too young to recognize.

She just knew that whenever she heard another voice, she _got_ something.

“You’re bleeding!”

“Eh?” Drepani stuck her hand up to her face, drawing it away. Sure enough, there was a spec of red on the tip of her finger. She looked up at her mother, confused - then remembered.

“Ah!! I fell on muh-my face!” Drepani explained, rubbing under her nose, “I guess I hit my nose.”

Alba’vida sighed. She pulled Drepani over to the small bucket they had - it was filled with rain water. Wetting a cloth, the older woman wiped the dry blood away from Drepani’s face.

“Not only is my fen’di smart, but she’s tough too,” Alba’vida smiled fondly, “good thing you’re a troll.”

Drepani tilted her head, and her mother laughed, “we heal easily. The bleeding has already stopped.”

“Yay!” Drepani beamed, “can I have my present now?”

Again, Alba’vida laughed, “oh, so demanding! But yes, you may have it.”

It was a pendant, strung on a gold chain, with a raptor etched into it.

It’s eyes were white gems.

_There was the song again. Drepani followed it for as long as she could, ears twitching this way and that._

_She still couldn’t understand. The words were lost to her._

_The raptor was there, standing in the middle of a pit of snakes. She went in fearlessly, patting several of the slithering beasts on the head when they reared up to look at her._

_“You keep singing to me,” she said reaching up toward the raptor when she came to stand in front of him. He lowered his head, allowing her to run her little fingers over his snout._

_Very suddenly, Drepani found it difficult to breathe. She fell over the large beast’s snout, shuddering gasps shaking her small frame. He lifted her up._

_Drepani wanted to cry - but it was all so strange. She felt like her legs were becoming one leg, and that her arms were becoming part of her ribs; her hair seemed to harden, yet remained flexible, and when she tried to move, her new leg snapped from side to side._

She gasped loudly when she woke up.

Alba’vida’s hands were on her shoulders, horror written all over her face. The little girl could see tears gathering in her mother’s eyes.

“Drepani?” she moved one of her hands to wipe at her daughter’s face, “are you okay?! Why were you crying in your sleep?”

Drepani shook her head, trying to catch her breath. She had two legs again. Her arms felt like they were boneless, but they were there all the same. Tears streamed down her face but not from fear or pain.

“I-I dunno’, muuka,” she wailed, burying her face in Alba’vida’s stomach, “I duh-don’ know!”

“Shh, shh,” Alba soothed, stroking her hand through Amita’s hair, “you’re okay now. Muuka’s here.”

Drepani rubbed her eyes, nodding her head. She shuffled closer to her mother.

“Do you want to sleep with muuka?”

Again, Drepani nodded her head. Her mother hummed softly, and the two curled up next to Jashik.

This time, once Drepani closed her eyes and _found herself in the jungle again, she was too afraid to go when the raptor sang to her._

The next morning was bright. Sun filtered through the canopy, and Drepani sat by a pile of wood, a decently sized axe in her hands. She’d just finished chopping the logs in half.

_‘According to Muuka, it’s important that I’m strong,’_ Drepani sighed, dropping the axe and wrapping her arms around her knees.

“I don’t just want to be… to be strong!” she frowned, thinking back to the boy she’d seen. To the other trolls she’d seen. The memories left her chest feeling empty.

“I want friends…”

Branches broke. Drepani jumped, her hand flying to the axe. She knew how to swing it. She could at least do some decent damage to whatever it was that was sneaking up on her, if not outright discourage the beast from approaching--

Bright green eyes widened when they fell on the raptor. He tilted his head at her. The gold and silver that adorned his body glinted in the sunlight that came through the trees. The feathers he had rustled in the wind.

The five year old dropped the axe.

Drepani hadn’t realized he was _real_. Astounded, she rose to her feet. Her legs trembled as she walked toward the massive beast, her emotions ebbing between fear and wonder. He lowered his head, grunting softly at her.

She reached up, placing shaking hands on his snout.

What sounded like a laugh reverberated through his chest. He nudged her.

A loud gasp made Drepani jerk her hands back; the raptor raised his head, eyes glittering. The little girl was fully ready to apologize profusely to her mother, but when she turned to look at the older woman, she had to stare.

Alba’vida was on her hands and knees. In fact, her face was pressed into the forest floor. And her arms were outstretched in front of her, palms up. Drepani didn’t fully understand the gesture.

When she turned back to the raptor, he was gone.

_This was the first time the day in her dreams matched the time in her reality. Inky black, speckled with stars. Drepani could finally understand the song, and this time, finding the raptor only took her two steps and a sideways glance._

_“Do you know who I am?”_

_The little girl turned to face him, eyes determined, “Gonk. You are Gonk, master of shapes.”_

_For a brief moment, she saw another form. He was tall, grinning broadly, his hair the same color as the features that adorned his headdress. Then it was gone, and Gonk threw his head back, chortling._

_“Good! You know my name,” he strode toward her, lowering his head, “and you can hear my voice.”_

_As she had before, Drepani wrapped her arms around his snout - and, as had happened before, she went limp._

_“Breathe, little one.”_

_She did._

_“Remember this sensation. These melting bones and shifting muscles. You have potential. I wish to see you change with ease.”_

_It was difficult to breathe. Her lungs seemed to shrink. Her spine stretched nearly twice it’s normal length. The amount of ribs were deceptive in their increase._

_In her dreams, Drepani slid easily through the jungle terrain_.

And when she woke, her mother had already made the morning fire, smiling fondly at Drepani when she noticed her daughter was awake.

Drepani took it as a good sign that she hadn’t woken up to her mother shaking her. She got up to go sit across from Alba’vida, and asked more about the Loa.

Alba’vida began by telling her more about Gonk.

* * *

Yet another year passed. Drepani learned to slither amongst the bushes on her belly like the snakes she so adored did. They came at her call and went where she asked. She, as a cobra, was oddly bigger than they were, but still small enough to not be considered a complete anomaly.

She continued to receive dreams from Gonk. He taught her how to fight in her small cobra form. Lunges, tail strikes, tail jabs; when to use her venom filled fangs and when to rely on the other teeth. Drepani had even learned how to wrap her body tightly around necks to suffocate her foes, all the while assaulting their faces with her fangs. The motions were ripping, meant to tear through flesh and sinew. When she had to, she would thrash.

Gonk even told her that as she grew bigger, so too would her cobra form.

_“Drepani,” he said while they stared out at the dreamy night sky, moments before Drepani felt the pricks of consciousness, “things will happen to you that you will question. Please, don’t ever lose faith in me. There will be a reason to the pain. If it makes you angry, you know where to find me.”_

Of course the young girl had no real idea what the Loa meant, but before she could ask him any questions about it, she had awoken. Her mother didn’t question her daughter’s increased interest in the Loa, nor did she question Drepani’s obvious interest in Gonk. The huntress seemed to expect it.

Before long, Drepani was hunting with Jashik. She managed to keep her cobra form a secret from her mother, deciding that whatever she was being taught how to do was between her and the Loa, ‘ _I don’t want muuka to get worried, either_.’

The words Gonk had spoken to her, about not losing her faith, about coming to him if she was angry over the events of her life, were soon replaced by Drepani’s excitement.

Alba’vida was suspicious of this little cobra that had grown so attached to her, but the huntress never spoke to Drepani about it when she was a cobra, nor when she was in her troll form. She never questioned Drepani’s increased endurance or the fact that she could dash through the jungles at the same speed as the raptors.

Truly, the only thing that Alba’vida appeared to be was proud.

Drepani took advantage of her newfound abilities. She slunk around where the other trolls were - once she had figured out exactly _where_ that was - usually when dusk was falling. There was just enough light for Drepani to see by, and just enough darkness for her to hide in the shadows. She knew the route home by heart, and navigating the jungle floor in the dark was easier than she’d ever imagined it to be.

Her fourth time investigating the sprawling beach village, she saw the red-haired boy again. Without thinking, she sat coiled right under a lamp, watching him. The sounds of thunder and clashing metal came back to her, but for whatever reason, her heart soared at the knowledge that he had survived.

He was sitting next to a rather important looking fellow, though his eyes were half-closed in boredom. A girl sat next to him - she looked older, and had strength in her arms, similar to Drepani’s mother.

_‘Hm… are they related?’,_ the small cobra flicked her tongue, and raised herself a little. The warm lamp felt nice on her scales, ‘ _no…. No aren't be related. They look too different--!’_

“AH!!” the girl had lurched to her feet, eyes wide and set right on Drepani. The cobra froze, and then released a startled hiss. She threw herself to the side right as the other girl lunged for her.

“Ouch!” she exclaimed next, and Drepani began to slither as fast as she could down the beach, “wait! Come back here you lil’ thing!”

“An’jen!” the new cry sounded exasperated, and Drepani darted right between the legs of someone quite tall, “leave it be!”

“Oh that’s easy for _you_ to say, Vanira!” the sand next to Drepani flew everywhere. She reared, jaw wide, loud hiss erupting from her throat. The sound, at least, startled the young huntress, and Drepani was quickly on her way again, eyes intent on the jungle.

“Ooooh no!! Nooo! It’s gettin’ away!”

“An’jen, really, leave it be!”

“Vaniraaa I can’t just leave it be! Did you see how _pretty_ it was!? Those black scales, that bright underbelly, the bigger size than normal-- ah!”

Drepani shifted out of the cobra form, heart racing, and scaled a nearby tree. She climbed until she was hidden amongst the leaves. The huntress - An’jen, Drepani supposed her name was - looked furiously around the bushes.

“No… it just disappeared…” the pout on her face was so comical that it made the other children who had come dashing over laugh, “don’t you laugh!”

The boy with red hair had his hand on the trunk of the tree Drepani had scampered up. She did her best not to stare at him. There was something _different_ about him, and she was afraid that if she stared, he would notice her.

“It be because you’re so loud, An’jen,” a younger girl chastised. She had her hands planted on her hips. Drepani squinted at them all. It was difficult for her to make out their features, much less the colors of their skin and hair.

“Huh!” An’jen crossed her arms over her chest, frowning, “fine. Mebbe. I guess that isn’t how I should go about tamin’ a cobra… but! When was the last time you ever _saw_ a cobra on First Home!”

“Not that common,” this time the red-haired boy spoke. Drepani allowed herself to glance at him.

He was looking _right_ at her, the slightest smirk pulling at his lips.

“I’m thinkin’ she climbed.”

“She?” the others piped up, and to Drepani’s dismay, they were all looking up the tree now, various curious gazes searching for her. She stayed as still as she could.

“Yeah. I think she’s… right there,” and he pointed.

Drepani jumped to her feet, raced out along the branch, and leapt.

Her impact with the trunk of the next tree winded her, but she scrabbled at the bark with all of her claws, refusing to let herself drop. All of the other children had yelped in surprise and worry, and Drepani pulled herself up onto another branch, terrified.

_‘I thought you wanted friends_.’

She was finding it difficult to stabilize her breathing, which had grown frantic. The other kids had already gathered around the new tree, and Drepani was pushed to wobble precariously on the new branch, before she leapt for the next tree. This time, she managed to catch a branch, and it was easier to pull herself onto it.

_‘I_ **_do_ ** _want friends!!’_

Drepani clawed her way higher into the new tree, swatting at a few insects that were disturbed by her presence.

_‘Then why are you running?’_

The thought made Drepani pause. When she looked down, the young huntress called An’jen was starting to climb the tree she was in, while the other kids gathered around. Her heart still hammered in her chest, and she could feel the most _unnerving_ gaze--

“Hey, you wait just a second--!”

_“AN’JEN!”_

The snarl made the huntress drop back to the ground. The other kids moved to hide behind her, almost, and Drepani watched in mild interest. An’jen’s ears were pinned back. Only the red-haired boy seemed unperturbed, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the trunk of the tree. The unnerving gaze was removed from Drepani’s person, and she focused on listening to the conversation instead.

“Chaako.”

“ _What_ do you think you’re doing?”

“I was lookin’ for a cobra,” An’jen replied, sticking her chin out, “then the cobra disappeared.”

“And you think it’s perfectly _fine_ to put everyone in danger?”

“I didn’t!” the huntress snapped, balling her hands into fists, “I have my dagger! I can protect them!”

“And if a tiger showed up, what then, hm?” a large male appeared in Drepani’s line of sight, and she kept her gaze fixed on the children. He looked imposing, and aggressive, and Drepani decided she didn’t like him.

“On top of _that_ , the chieftain’s son is with you,” he grabbed An’jen roughly by her bicep, and started dragging her off, but not before shoving the red-haired boy ahead of him, “if _anything_ happened to him, An’jen… that will be something I will make _sure_ you regret.”

Drepani hurriedly shifted into a cobra, and slithered down the tree while the children followed the older troll.

It was the best time to make her escape.

* * *

“Hrm…” Drepani tapped her tail against her mouth. It had been a few days since she had nearly been snatched by the young huntress. She hadn’t forgotten the name.

Murlocs, however, were busy distracting the young girl’s attention. She had recently discovered that the strange frog-like creatures her mother had warned her to steer clear of would run in fear at the sight of her cobra form.

A shudder ran down her spine.

Drepani could only assume that the reason the murlocs feared her cobra form, was due to their fear of the naga. Alba’vida hadn’t told her _too_ much about the large snake-people with their many arms, but what Drepani _did_ learn led her to understand why the murlocs feared them so. Her mother had told her that the nagas enslaved the murlocs, and made the strange frog creatures do whatever they wanted. That the naga did the same to the trolls, and sacrificed them too.

In the distance, Drepani heard her mother call her name. She slithered into the bushes and emerged standing on her own two feet, picking leaves and pieces of sticks out of her hair.

“I’m here, muuka!” the girl announced, fiddling with the raptor pendant around her neck.

“Oh! There you are,” Alba’vida smiled. Her expression was tired. Drepani frowned. She approached her mother as the older woman knelt down by some kindling, intending to start a fire.

Drepani cupped her mother’s face in her hands, brows furrowed. Alba’vida stared at her, confused.

“Muuka?”

“Yes, fen’di?”

“Are you okay?”

A startled look crossed Alba’vida’s features, and Drepani fixed her with the most intense stare her large eyes could manage.

“Muuka is just tired, Drepani.”

The little girl pouted, but accepted her mother’s words when the elder woman gave her another tired smile and patted her hands, “now, let’s have some dinner.”

_‘I’m not convinced,’_ Drepani maintained her slight frown, ears twitched down. She helped her mother finish preparing for supper regardless.

Night fell; morning came. Drepani hunted with her mother and Jashik, but this time, not as a cobra. Alba’vida had whittled a small staff for her daughter. Along with it, she had given Drepani a small dagger.

Drepani’s first attempt at skinning a rabbit could have been worse.

_‘Ewwww,’_ she wrinkled her nose at the fleshy skins, while Alba’vida could only laugh, ‘ _it’s so gross!’_

“Muuka it’s gross!” she announced, holding the skins out as far as she could. Alba’vida could only shake her head.

“It’s your first time trying, Drepani,” Alba’vida smiled adoringly, but the tiredness that Drepani had seen yesterday was still in her dark gaze, “you will get better at it, with time.”

Drepani could only make a huge fuss, and Alba’vida showed the young troll again how to properly skin a rabbit. Next, she was shown how to prepare the meat.

This became the new supper ritual, until one day, Drepani was sent on her own with Jashik.

“You keep her safe, Jashik,” Alba’vida ordered, holding Jashik’s head firmly in her hands, “you bring her back.”

The raptor chortled at her while Drepani clung to her staff nervously. This was the first time her mother had sent her to hunt on her own, ‘ _maybe I can do it as a cobra.’_

“M-muuka?”

Alba’vida turned to her, a smile on her older face, “don’t you worry, fen’di. Muuka will be nearby, always.”

Drepani shakily nodded her head, and with one hand on Jashik’s leg, she went off into the jungle on her own. She’d done this _multiple_ times. She ran wild with the raptors. She scaled the trees, she slithered through the underbrush, yet here she was, scared to hunt on her own with only her small dagger, a wooden staff, and her mother’s faithful beast.

_‘And if muuka is gonna’ be nearby… then I can’t turn into a cobra,’_ she pouted. Perhaps it was for the better. She had to get better at hunting without relying on her cobra form. Drepani twisted her fingers in one of Jashik’s decorative bead strings. The raptor churred at her, and lowered his head to look her in the eye. Drepani leaned her forehead against his.

For a moment, she could almost understand him.

It gave her the confidence she needed. Drepani climbed onto Jashik’s back, and rode him toward the beaches. It was the best place to find turtles, after all, and Drepani knew Alba’vida liked their meat, and their shells could be used for dishes - plus, they were, in Drepani’s opinion, a good choice of prey on her first venture on her own, ‘ _nice and slow. I just need to, um, be careful of their mouths!’_

Soon, her dagger was cutting deep into the back of a turtle’s neck. It was one of the pretty flat ones, and while Drepani felt bad, she was grateful that it’s struggling was quickly ended by a swift jab to the skull. Jashik crouched patiently while the small girl struggled to get the turtle tied securely to his back.

She chased smaller turtles through the water, and was successful in scaring one to the beach. She kicked it onto its back, this time slitting its throat. After that, she slumped on the ground, sighing.

“Aaah, huntin’ is so _hard_ , Jashik,” she groaned, rubbing the raptor under the chin when he lowered his head to chur at her, “how does muuka do it? I can do it better as a cobra…”

A shiver ran down her spine and she hesitantly looked over her shoulder - then up and down the beach. There were no murlocs that she could see. Birds still circled in the air.

Another shiver ran down her spine and Drepani snatched up the smaller turtle, gripping it tightly by the neck. She had been hoping to get another one, but the chill that was settling in the air made her stomach flip flop, and her heart pound.

“Jashik, we need to go,” she urged, standing between the large raptor’s legs. She kept up with him as best she could - but Loa! It would be so much easier if she could just turn into a cobra and weave between his feet like she so often did--

The raptor swerved. His bulky tail slammed into something solid, and it released an enraged, snarling hiss. Drepani dropped the turtle in her hands when she threw herself to the side. Jashik screeched.

The naga snarled back.

She didn’t think. She couldn’t. Jashik had too much weight on his back to put up much of a fight.

Drepani was lunging at the naga’s arm, mouth wide, fangs bared. Her sudden change startled the naga, but he was still able to hit her away with his forearm. She rolled over the sand, growling, and reared up, racing across the sand toward the naga again. Her side hurt a little. It was easy to ignore.

This time, she lunged for the fins lining the naga’s back; she ripped and tore at them, slithering into the underbrush to make it difficult for him to spot her, and then darting out from behind a tree, lowering herself to the ground so she could sprint. She turned sharply at the last moment, dragging her tail across the ground. Sand sprayed into the naga’s eyes, and he yelled, swiping at his face. Jashik rammed his head into the naga’s chest, knocking him down.

And arrows riddled his body.

Panicked, Drepani retreated back into the jungle.

“Drepani!!”

Of _course_ she recognized her mother’s voice, but she hid in the bushes anyway, camouflaging herself amongst the brush. The huntress stumbled into view, looking about frantically. Jashik appeared soon after with the small turtle Drepani had dropped clutched delicately in his mouth.

“Drepani!? _Drepani_!” her mother called, clutching her bow so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

_‘She’s gonna’ be mad at me,’_ Drepani tried to slither backwards, but it was difficult. It wasn’t something she had practiced often enough.

After several more seconds of frantically calling her daughter’s name, Alba’vida calmed. She closed her eyes, and Drepani watched as small green wisps of magic danced about her mother’s fingers.

Her sharp gaze was fixed on Drepani soon enough.

“You can use stealth…” the woman said in wonder, taking a breath to steady herself. She sat back on her calves, taking another breath, and then wiping at her face.

“I know you’re there, fen’di. Come here.”

Guiltily, Drepani slithered out of the bushes. She rose up, hood flared for a brief moment, letting her mother appraise her - then she turned back into a troll in a flash of bluish-white light. She fiddled with the bottom of her skirt, finding it difficult to hold her mother’s gaze.

“Come here.”

Hesitantly Drepani went. She could only think of all the reprimanding she was going to receive.

But of course Alba’vida was not upset. She jerked Drepani into her arms, holding her close. Drepani was startled.

“Thank the Loa…” Alba’vida said, her voice weak, “I can’t believe it… all this time, _you_ were the cobra.”

Drepani nodded her head, wrapping her arms around her mother’s neck. She sniffled, now that the adrenaline had worn off and the fact that she had been attacked by a _naga_ sunk in. Her arms wound more tightly around Alba’vida, and in turn, Alba’vida’s arms wound more tightly around her.

No other words were exchanged. Alba carried Drepani back to the cave, where she watched as Drepani took apart the turtles herself.

She was seven.

* * *

_This dream was different._

_Gonk wasn’t here to show her any magic, Drepani knew that by how similar the cave she had ‘woken up’ in was compared to the cave she had fallen asleep in._

_“Follow me,” he said, his voice deep, tone serious._

_“I have something to show you.”_

_Though she was frightened, Drepani shifted into a cobra and followed the Loa. He had told her to have faith in him, after all. She felt that, right now, this was one of the ways she could show him she had this thing he called faith._

_It wasn’t long before Drepani saw a figure that she recognized. Alba’vida’s sunset hair was impossible to miss._

_The second troll had a face shrouded in shadows, but the tattoos that crept over the right side of his body were familiar to her. She’d committed them to memory little over a year ago, the first time she had caught a glimpse of his back. Drepani wanted to dart out and wrap herself around his ankle and never let go._

_Gonk stopped her._

_“I_ **_want_ ** _to be a part of her life.”_

_“No,” Alba’vida’s voice was harsh. She had her arms crossed over her chest. In the shadow on the man’s face, green eyes burned with a rage Drepani couldn’t name._

_“You_ **_cannot_ ** _keep her from me like this. You cannot keep me from_ **_her_ ** _. She deserves to know me. And I want to know her.”_

_Drepani jolted and pressed herself against Gonk’s leg when her mother slammed her fist against the male’s chest. He was hardly bothered by it, and Alba choked on a breath._

_“You_ **_don’t get it._ ** _The elders, they would never let her be in the village,” she shoved him roughly to silence him, and Drepani hugged closer to Gonk. She had not seen her mother_ **_this_ ** _angry before._

_“You_ **_listen_ ** _to me, bal’a,” the last word was spoken like it burned Alba’vida, “you might not be so inclined to care about your reputation, or your position in the tribe, but_ **_I do_ ** _. I left for a reason. She has your eyes--”_

_“She also has my magic,” the man interrupted, balling his hands into tight fists. Drepani desperately wanted to move closer, but Gonk shifted his leg. She was only allowed to watch, not interact. Drepani hissed softly in defeat._

_“Nobody can know that you had a child by me! They can’t. You may be powerful, but you still answer to the elders. You still answer to Sen’jin. You take a lot of risks by comin’ out here all the time to see me.”_

_“I_ **_wasn’t,_ ** _followed,” he growled, magic popping around his fingers. Drepani shuffled back, hiding behind Gonk’s leg. Why did the Loa want her to see this?_

_“But you could be. You’re puttin’ me at risk, more than I’m puttin’ myself at risk, and you’re puttin’ your_ **_daughter_ ** _at risk. You_ **_know_ ** _what the elders do to children who are the result of a_ **_mistake._ ** _”_

_The man snarled, and Drepani could only stare._

_Her father._

_The tattooed man was her father._

_The one who brought her the raptor necklace that she still wore, he was her father - right?_

_Truthfully, Drepani couldn’t believe it, and the desire to go out and meet this man reared its head once again._

_“Do you think I’m so_ **_incapable_ ** _that I cannot protect the ones I love?” he spoke through his teeth, and Alba’vida drew back. Even in the dream, Drepani found herself shaking from the waves of raw magic that rolled off of him._

_Alba’vida, however, was a force all her own, and after withdrawing for a moment the huntress squared her shoulders, “no - but you cannot protect her mind. The looks she’ll get, you can’t protect her from those either.”_

_“And how is she supposed to live out here?” the man demanded. He took a threatening step forward. Alba’vida stood defiantly in place, giving the impression that this was behavior she was used to._

_“You’re threatening, love, but you’re no threat to me.”_

_“What makes you so certain?”_

_“Because you would never raise a hand against me.”_

_The man growled again, and Alba’vida shook her head, “she can take care of herself. She can hunt, she can fight, and she can turn into a cobra, and I didn’t teach her that.”_

_“Let her_ **_know me_ ** _,” he whispered, and Drepani decided she did not like the sadness she could hear in his voice, nor did she like how the words were broken._

_Her mother stepped into the shadows, and Gonk began to nudge Drepani away from the scene._

_“You can’t know her, bal’a. And she can’t know you.”_

_The last Drepani heard as she was quickly ushered away from the area was the sound of shifting fabric._

Abruptly, Drepani awoke. She sat up in the cave, breathing heavily. Her palms were sweaty.

_‘What was with that conversation…?’_ Drepani wrapped her arms around herself. It made her nervous, ‘ _why would muuka… not want me to be with chaako? If… if he really is my chaako…’_

Drepani shook her head. No. He _couldn’t_ be - could he?

_It is okay if you call him chaako._

She hugged herself more tightly. Drepani didn’t understand why Gonk showed her the conversation. Why would it have been important. She didn’t understand why Gonk encouraged her to call the man ‘chaako’ either.

There was a sigh from outside. Drepani hesitantly got to her feet, shivering in the morning cold, and walked out to see her mother sitting at the fire pit, as she normally did.

She looked tired - but not entirely upset.

_‘Because she met with chaako?’_

Drepani swallowed. Her arms fell down lifelessly to her sides. Her mother was tired because she kept on having heated conversations with that man at night.

She took a breath;

“Muuka, you aren’t gonna’ leave me, are you?”

Alba’vida gasped, turning her head to look at the small girl. Drepani stared at her with wide, scared eyes.

The huntress swiftly approached Drepani, dropping down to her height and hugging the girl in one swift motion.

“No,” the word was firm, “I will _never_ leave you, not by choice - but if somethin’ ever happened to me, Drepani, I want to make sure you can take care of yourself. I can never know what will happen in these jungles; you can never know.”

She held Drepani tightly by the shoulders, and the girl sniffed, rubbing at her eyes.

“You need to understand this. You have _no idea_ how much comfort it brings your muuka to know that her fen’di can turn into a cobra, and defend herself. I wish I could help you with your magic more, but it seems you found someone to teach you, no?”

Drepani nodded her head, still sniffling, and mumbled, “Gonk.”

Alba’vida pulled Drepani back into a tight embrace, with Jashik nuzzling both of them as he huffed.

This close, Drepani could see marks on her mother’s neck. She wasn’t sure if they were good or bad, but Drepani didn’t know how to ask what they were, or where her mother got them from. They didn’t _look_ like bruises - at least, not bruises left by a heavy hand.

As she stayed in her mother’s embrace, Drepani realized that perhaps she hadn’t needed to tell Alba’vida that Gonk had been her teacher - but the last thing the little girl wanted was for her mother to think that she had snuck off back to the tribe that the huntress seemed so determined to keep her away from.

Even if there was a man there who wanted Drepani to know he was there for her.

Even if Drepani got her magical inclination from him.

Even if Drepani desperately wanted to _know_ him.

* * *

Another year passed. Drepani could shift seamlessly between her troll and cobra forms. She’d gotten brave enough to slither through the sprawling Darkspear village in broad daylight, under the guise of her stealth. She avoided leaving tracks where she could - which, she found, was no easy task whenever sand was involved. More than once she had come across several hunting parties, but was wise enough to stay with Jashik.

Drepani had yet to ask her mother about the other trolls on the island. They were so familiar, yet so foreign, and Drepani could do nothing to stop the ache in her heart. If her obedience to her mother was not so absolute, she would have given in to the desperate need to be with the other trolls already.

From the distance, she would watch them in the village. She watched them do each other’s hair, and she would scurry into a tree to try and do the same thing to her own hair.

Alba’vida didn’t question when Drepani came back to the cave with her hair haphazardly braided, or haphazardly done up in a high tail. She merely laughed, and taught her daughter how to do it properly.

On top of that, Drepani had started waking up before her mother did, going out to hunt down breakfast. Sometimes, she managed to bring back her kill before her mother even woke up, and she would always swell with pride when she had breakfast hot and ready for her mother when Alba’vida walked out of the cave.

Her hours of listening to her mother, and shadowing her during the afternoon meal, and during supper, was finally paying off.

Drepani was eight.

She stood at the mouth of the cave that her mother had turned into a home, peering in. Blankets, mats, pillows, baskets, utensils, crude weapons, makeshift armor… Drepani had been taught how to make it all. Some things were gifts. She fiddled with the raptor pendant that hung around her neck. The jewellery was the one thing she had never taken off, except for when she hunted.

She didn’t want to lose it, or damage it, after all.

“Muuka?” Drepani found herself asking, running back out to her mother. The huntress was busy restringing her bow, but she gave Drepani her attention all the same.

“Yes, Drepani?”

“Can you pierce my ears?”

Alba’vida snorted, “what! She wants her ears pierced!”  
  


Drepani pouted, crossing her arms over her chest, “muuka has pierced ears!! So do a lot of the other children…”

Alba’vida’s expression fell, “you… is that where you’re always going?”

She didn’t sound surprised.

“I think it’s obvious, muuka… I’m learnin’ things!! Like dancin’,” and to demonstrate, Drepani twirled, doing her best to bounce her hips like she’d seen the other girls do. Alba’vida simply stared at her - and then, to Drepani’s amazement, released a sigh of relief. She heard the huntress mutter under her breath that she was glad her daughter could learn from observation.

“Okay,” Alba’vida motioned in front of herself, “you sit here, fen’di. Muuka will pierce your ears.”

Drepani was so excited that she didn’t even feel the pricks when her mother stabbed the thin bone needle through her ears, two in each lobe. She wore a couple of her mother’s old earrings, after Alba’vida had cleaned them appropriately, with warm salt water.

By the time afternoon rolled around, Drepani had grown… bored. She moped about in the cave, sighing, picking at the pillows, picking at the berries her mother had scattered around, and staring off into the distance.

_‘I wonder if I can dream of Gonk durin’ the day…’_ she frowned. Surely that was impossible!

_‘... I’ll never know if I don’t try!!’_ she closed her eyes, breathing in, and out, being as patient as her little body, and distracted mind would let her be.

_Raucous laughter met her when she opened her eyes._

_“Oh look at her! She can meditate now! Good, good,” Gonk grinned broadly at her, “I was wondering when you were going to figure it out, little one.”_

_Drepani pursed her lips. She appraised the Loa for a moment, then got to her feet, “well… here I am! Teach me somethin’!”_

_He grinned toothily at her, “she sure_ **_is_ ** _demanding, isn’t she?”_

_The little girl’s face fell, “muuka said that to me once…”_

_“Hm,” Gonk prodded Drepani with his nose, “you’ve certainly grown.”_

_“I wasn’t gonna’ stay a baby forever, silly Loa!” Drepani chirped, giggling when Gonk nudged her more roughly._

_“Silly Loa! That’s a new one. Come, I want you to meet someone. The two of you have many things in common, and it took me some time to permeate his thoughts,” and the Loa’s eyes sparkled with mischief. Drepani recalled again that the Loa were fickle beings, and while often inclined to be benefactors, they were no strangers to malice._

_Regardless, Drepani shifted into a cobra and followed Gonk to an entirely different looking forest. It was…_ **_so_ ** _different. The trees were large and elegant, stretching toward the sky - and their leaves were full. They covered the sky completely._

_Drepani wasn’t sure how much she liked it._

_Gonk led her further through the brush until finally, several minutes later, they came to a clearing._

_Immediately the cobra darted into a bush. There was someone else in the clearing, and Gonk’s boisterous laugh startled the other being as much as it startled Drepani._

_“You mortals amuse me! That being said, Naralex,” and Drepani found herself being pulled out of the bushes by Gonk’s tail, “I have brought this small one. Teach her druidic magic.”_

_The man stared at her, “I… what manner of creature is she? Is… is she a_ **_troll_ ** _?”_

_Drepani shifted out of her cobra form and snapped, “is dat gonna’ be a problem!? Because you be lookin’ real funneh dere yaself, you weird, tuskless purple troll!”_

_Once again Gonk howled with laughter, and this Naralex fellow stared at her with a gaping jaw. He turned his yellow eyes back to Gonk, “this is who you’ve been pestering me about? And how can she speak Darnassian so easily?”_

_“This is a dream,” Gonk purred, “and I am a Loa. Do you really think my power is not on par with the moon goddess? You would be wise not to question the capabilities of a wild god, elf.”_

_Drepani had no real clue what any of them were saying. Wasn’t she speaking the same language she always spoke?_

_“I don’ be knowin’ ‘bout you, bu’ I be knowin’ ‘bout_ **_me_ ** _, an’ Gonk hasn’ been teachin’ me anyting fah a while!” she jabbed a finger at Naralex, “‘cuz he be tryna’ git_ **_you_ ** _ta -- ta-- ta get along wit’ me!!”_

_Naralex appeared both miffed and intrigued, “I do believe the word you’re looking for is cooperate, little one.”_

_“Yeah dat!”_

_“Alright, well, if you come sit here… maybe I should teach you entangling roots first,” he tapped his chin as Drepani cautiously drew closer, “oh, by the way. I’m a night elf.”_

_“A night elf?” Drepani repeated, confused, “bu’ you be lookin’ like a troll… wit’ no tusks, an’ purple skin, an’ too many fingahs and toes.”_

_Naralex laughed, “I suppose you have a point there - then that makes you a night elf with green skin, tusks, and too few fingers and toes.”_

_Drepani pouted at him; he laughed. She supposed his temperament and his voice were kind enough._

_“Come here, little one.”_

_“Drepani,” she corrected. Naralex smiled;_

_“Pleased to meet you, Drepani. I am Naralex, Druid of the Fang.”_

She was wide-eyed when she ‘woke up’. Alba’vida was calling her name, and Drepani scrambled to her feet.

“Comin’ muuka!!”

“What were you doing, hm?” her mother questioned, one brow raised. Drepani tilted her head, thinking about it. She shouldn’t tell her mother she met Naralex.

“I was daydreamin’!” she chirped. Alba’vida snorted.

“And what was my daughter daydreaming about?”

“Gonk!”

Alba’vida pursed her lips - then grabbed Drepani around the waist and raised her into the air. A startled laugh escaped the young girl, and her mother nuzzled her nose to Drepani’s.

“You are such a clever little thing, Drepani.”

* * *

Half-way through the year, and Drepani had yet to be noticed by the Darkspear - but every now and then, she would feel that unnerving gaze. She had finally deduced that the gaze did not come from the red-haired boy because when she felt the weight of this unknown stare, he was not looking in her direction.

_‘One thing that always gets on my nerves though!! Is that I can never seem to learn his name, no matter how hard I try!!’_

She huffed, slithering up to the cave and sliding right into her troll form. Her clothes needed adjusting again.

In the meantime, Alba’vide had resorted to making a poncho of sorts for Drepani. She loved the covering. It was beautifully decorated, kept the sun off her shoulders so she was less likely to get burned, and it was the easiest item for Alba’vida to adjust.

Drepani was growing far more quickly than Alba’vida seemed to like, though. Drepani had noticed the small things herself. Her hips seemed to be sticking out more, and her… chest was growing outward. Not by much, but Drepani noticed whenever she was washing herself.

“Muuka! I’m back,” she announced, flouncing into the cave. Alba’vida sat up, yawning. Drepani planted her hands on her hips, “you’re havin’ an afternoon nap!!”

“Mm yes-- did you grow, _again?_ ” the woman inquired, staring at Drepani with furrowed brows. Drepani tipped her head back proudly.

“Yes! I grew again!”

Alba’vida grumbled, and all Drepani could do was giggle.

“You’re only eight and a half, you shouldn’t be this tall! Ah, fen’di… you’re growing up so fast,” she smiled fondly as she got to her feet, cupping Drepani’s cheek in her hand, “but I don’t think muuka could be any prouder.”

Drepani beamed.

As Alba’vida adjusted her poncho, Drepani squirmed. She flexed her feet. Tapped her fingers together, and finally, jerked up the poncho to look at her legs.

“Drepani!”

“Mm muuka… why am I bleedin’?” she asked, staring at the smudged blood on her thigh. There was an equally as similar smudge on her _other_ thigh, she noted, and she looked up at her mother with furrowed brows.

“I’m feelin’ kinda’ itchy too. And it’s gross.”

Alba’vida pressed her lips into a thin line, “hmm… of course that would happen now. Let muuka finish adjusting your poncho, then we can go to the pool, okay? Muuka will explain there.”

Drepani frowned, but listened. Her body was doing _such_ strange things as of late; this, however, was by far the _strangest_ thing that had happened. Her ear flicked as her mother muttered furiously to herself. From what she could pick out, Alba’vida was frustrated with herself for forgetting to explain something so important before it happened.

This information only caused Drepani’s frown to deepen.

At the pool, Drepani discovered that far more blood had appeared while her mother was busy adjusting her poncho. The sight of it made her shed a few frightened tears.

“Muuka, I’m dyin’.”

“You are _not_ dying!!” Alba’vida exclaimed, a laugh on her voice. She handed Drepani a bar of soap - she’d shown Drepani how to make them herself - and laughed softly when the little girl set to vigorously cleaning herself up.

“This is your heat - your period. Every month, you’re gonna have to deal with this, from now on.”

“EWWWWWW!!” Drepani exclaimed, scowling at her thighs. By Gonk, that _upset her so much_ , “that’s gross! This is gross! _This is so_ **_gross!!”_ **

“Oh fen’di,” Alba’vida chided, shaking her head, “it’s not that bad! It only happens once every month, and usually lasts between four to seven days. A lot of factors can affect it too! If you’re stressed, you might skip a month - that’s happened to muuka a few times.”

Drepani nodded her head, “I understand… I think. But it’s still gross, and I don’t want it!”

“You don’t have a choice, fen’di,” Alba’vida said softly. Her smile was brimming with affection.

When they returned to the cave, Alba’vida showed Amita how to use a cotton piece of fabric in her undergarments to catch the blood.

* * *

This was definitely not the first time Drepani was walking into the cave - but it was cold. The air was thick with the promise of rain. Even the animals in the jungle were quieter than they had been in the previous nights.

Summer was being pushed out by the coming autumn storms, and a heavy weight settled in Drepani's stomach. The young girl didn’t like it. She clutched one hand over her gut and gripped her pendant tightly with the other. Her grip soon became rhythmic rubbing. Often times, it was the only thing Drepani could do to calm her nerves.

She rushed back out to where her mother sat at the fire pit, her expression as grim as the sky above. Drepani threw her arms around Alba’vida’s neck, startling the older woman, whose voice was muffled against the fabric of Drepani’s poncho;

“Fen’di--”

“Muuka, I love you.”

Alba’vida was silent - then, her arms wrapped around Drepani tightly, and she pulled her daughter closer.

“I love you too, Drepani.”

She kissed her mother on the forehead, who in turn placed one on her cheek, and Drepani walked uneasily into the cave and to her nest of blankets and pillows.

_Her dream was eerily silent, with Gonk doing nothing but staring off into the distance. Drepani sat next to him, staring into the stars as well - but they were hard to see. They were shrouded by clouds that moved too swiftly across the sky._

_Drepani let her thoughts wander as she watched the clouds. Naralex had admitted that he enjoyed training her, finding her easier to teach than other night elves. Drepani wasn’t sure why, and Naralex had skirted around giving her an explanation. Instead, he kept her focus on a spell he called entangling roots, and just a few evenings ago, had given Amita her first taste of what it was like to spar with someone that had her skill set._

_Naralex had won, of course, being bigger, older, and far more experienced, but the spar had left Drepani with even more resolve to learn everything she could from him._

_“Naralex hopes that soon I’ll meet some of the other druids,” she said, mostly to herself, “he said they’re my age. That’s kinda’ young for night elves, right?”_

_Gonk simply nodded his head. She could sense he was looking at her, though, and took it as interest, “I’m kinda’ nervous about meeting them… I mean, I’m a troll, and when I first met Naralex, it seemed like we were pretty rare… I guess I should ask him about that. I don’t want to scare them, or be scared, or… I dunno, somethin’ like that!”_

_A soft laugh escaped the Loa._

_It wasn’t until the sun in her dream began to rise, that the Loa spoke, his voice low and words full of weight;_

“ _Please, don’t ever lose faith in me.”_

Drepani woke up alone.

Rain, heavy and loud, poured outside. The fire pit was empty, save for the few things that the mother and daughter pair would leave out. Drepani stared into the falling rain, terrified.

“Muuka?” she ventured, leaning against the side of the cave. There was no response.

“Muuka?!” she tried again, this time louder. Still, there was no response.

“Juh-Jashik!” Drepani called the raptor this time.

Neither appeared.

Scared, Drepani darted back into the cave. She kept her dagger close, and piled up all her pillows, wrapping herself up in both her poncho and blankets. It was for warmth, but also to conceal her; to make her look like just another pillow amongst pillows.

She knew where there was food. Her fear kept her confined to the same spot.

The rain stopped.

It was already night.

Still, Alba’vida and Jashik had not returned.

Drepani shivered. She had been standing at the mouth of the cave for over an hour. She had gathered some nearby rocks while the storm was still above, and made a fire pit inside the cave, which she had then filled with dry kindling and logs that her mother had made sure to keep stashed in the back of the cave.

The fire hardly offered her any comfort when she moved to sit in front of it.

“Muuka?” she spoke to the cave, her lips quivering, “why wouldn’t you let me stay with the Darkspear?”

A soft breeze answered her.

“Muuka, I really want to know chaako. What’s he like? Is he nice? I think Gonk showed me him once, but you were arguin’ with him.”

The trees rustled.

“Muuka, did you not love chaako?”

Shadows danced over the walls of the cave. Drepani could feel tears gathering in her eyes.

“Muuka?” she inhaled shakily, her voice soft, “do… do you love me?”

Silence.

Drepani cried herself to sleep, hugging her knees to her chest.

* * *

Alba’vida and Jashik had still not returned.

Drepani could hardly move herself to eat. By the middle of the day, she finally left the cave.

“I better… I better have somethin’ before I go huntin’,” she rubbed at her eyes. They felt sore and puffy, “probably from me cryin’ so much last night, ha ha…”

A quiet sob left her, and she managed to squeeze a few more tears out of her dry eyes, “muuka…”

She splashed cold rain water on her face, and brought some to her lips. Her mother had taught her better than to wallow in gloom. Alba’vida _had_ said that she wanted to make sure Drepani could take care of herself, if something ever happened…

Drepani bit her lip, fighting against her tears this time. She strapped her dagger to her thigh, and began to trek through the jungle. Should she go to the beach and get a turtle? Or perhaps a few fish?

“No, I didn’t bring my rod…” she sighed, rubbing her hand over her forearm, “then a boar would be better…”

Hopefully, she could find one small enough to drag back home.

Minutes passed. The young troll came to a clearing--

A branch snapped. Drepani froze, hand poised over her dagger. She had opted not to wear her poncho today, and the sun above beat down on her shoulders and back.

It was too quiet.

Something was stalking her.

Drepani threw herself forward, exhaling heavily when she hit the ground. She rolled to her right just in time to avoid getting her chest crushed by large paws.

A cry of fear died in her throat when she found herself face to face with a snarling, full grown tiger.

Shifting into a cobra, Drepani made a dash for the bushes - but her tail was caught by the tiger’s paw, and she was yanked back. She spat a hiss, rearing up and striking at the tiger’s head several times, jaws wide.

In retaliation, the tiger swatted her to the side; Drepani shifted back into her troll form. She thought of climbing a tree, but with a yelp she was forced back into the clearing. The tiger had charged at her side.

While she had dodged its paw, the tiger’s long claws dug into her thigh. She bit her lip against screaming in pain. Alba’vida had always praised her for her toughness.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. A young tiger, she could fight, but a full grown adult?

It would be just as well that she would die on her first day without her mother by her side.

Tears fled down her cheeks. Anger. Despair. She clutched her dagger tightly in her hands, baring her teeth at the beast in front of her.

At least no one could say she went down without a fight.

The tiger lunged at her and Drepani shifted into a cobra, sliding right under it. Its tail grazed her back, and she shifted into a troll again, never letting the tiger out of her sight. Her absolute best course of action was to do everything she could to tire it out - or better, prove herself to be unworthy of the effort. Prey that fought back was better left alone.

She slashed at the tiger’s paw when it made to strike her again. It’s claws caught her cheek. The cuts on her thigh were already beginning to close. She held her dagger tightly in her hands, huffing and puffing.

_‘Control your breathing, just like muuka taught you.’_

Drepani pivoted to the left, and the tiger snarled. It seemed intent on her. She clutched her dagger even more tightly. Her hands were beginning to shake.

This time, when the tiger lunged, Drepani slipped. Before she could cry out, a familiar shriek resounded through the area. Streaks of aqua flew through Drepani’s vision, backed by a dark canvas of black scales.

She burst into loud weeping, dropping her dagger, and sunk to her knees, crying into her hands.

Jashik clamped his jaws over the tiger’s throat and violently thrashed, killing it within seconds. He was snuffling at her hair in the next moment, churring in worry, and even ran his hooked fingers through her long hair. Drepani wrapped her arms around his snout and pressed her face as hard as she could into his scaly forehead.

The raptor flopped onto the ground, huffing comforting breaths into Amita’s chest. For several minutes the beast and the girl lay in the grass, warmed by the sun.

“Jashik…” Drepani sobbed, running her fingers along the raptor’s eye ridges, “Jashik… you came back…”

He seemed to nod his head in affirmation, and made Drepani laugh through her tears at his attempt to wrap his arms around her. It was difficult for him, but, Jashik managed.

All too soon Jashik was struggling to his feet. He butted Drepani with his snout, encouraging her to stand up. She fingered her cheek while Jashik grabbed the tiger by the neck.

“... good, I don’t be bleedin’,” she sniffed, nodded to herself, and wiped away what remained of her tears. Next, she stooped to pick up her dagger, wiped what she could of tiger blood off the blade, and put it back in its sheath.

Jashik lowered himself so that Drepani could climb onto his back, like she always had. The trudge back to the cave was long due to the weight of the tiger, but Drepani didn’t care. She pressed herself against Jashik’s neck, relishing in the warmth his scales provided after he had been in the sun.

This must have been her mother’s answer.

Despite having heard her mother say it to her just the other night, when Alba’vida was still there.

“Muuka sent you back to me,” Drepani whispered, running her hands along the raptor’s neck. A sad smile crossed her lips. She traced the lines of the bright war paints that decorated Jashik’s neck.

“Muuka sent you back as an answer.”

The raptor churred in agreement.

Skinning the tiger took up the rest of Drepani’s day. While the job wasn’t perfect, she had enough of the pelt intact to make a blanket out of, once it was cleaned and properly tanned - she could even make it into clothing, if she liked.

“But I can decide on that later, no?” she said to Jashik, who chortled. Drepani smiled, then set about cleaning the bones. The meat was next. She portioned it out, setting aside some to make into jerky; some she seasoned for her dinner.

The rest, she let Jashik have. He was ravenous, and ate everything she didn’t make use of. Drepani was grateful for it. It saved her the trouble of needing to dig a hole far from the cave to bury the guts.

“Guts were never somethin’ I liked,” she muttered to herself, laughing softly when Jashik gave her a look of disapproval, as if the raptor were personally offended by her comment.

At least she didn’t have to sleep alone in the cave tonight.

For a long while, Drepani lay awake, staring at Jashik’s content face. He was half curled around her, chest rising and falling with steady breaths. The little nest she had made had never felt so warm.

_Shooting stars were everywhere. They lit up the sky, leaving Drepani to stare at them in wonder before she hurried to the cliff. The sun was already beginning to rise in her dream. She wondered when it was that she had fallen asleep._

_Gonk was waiting for her, as he always did, singing his song. When her small hands reached for his face, he lowered it so she could wrap her fingers around his jaw._

_Drepani’s eyes were wide with hope, “she… she never left me, did she?”_

_Gonk shook his head, a smile lighting up his white eyes, “no, she is with you. Always.”_

_Drepani’s eyes closed in relief. She leaned her forehead against Gonk’s snout, and felt the prickles of consciousness pulling at her mind._

_“I too, am with you. Always.”_

_“Always?”_

_“Always.”_

The little girl stared groggily at Jashik. He was still fast asleep - so she shuffled closer to his chest, and placed her ear against his ribs.

Jashik’s heartbeat was a lullaby, and Drepani was sung back into a peaceful sleep.


	2. But I Haven't Met You Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can miss someone, before they even become someone you miss.

Her first month alone passed rather quickly. With Jashik at her side, Drepani quickly learned the ins and outs of how to fend for herself - and of course, she kept her raptor pendant close. It had become a talisman of sorts, and parts of it had already started to wear down with how much she rubbed them.

Without her mother, though, things were more difficult. Her mother had years and _years_ of experience under her belt, while Drepani only had… three years, give or take.

_’At least Gonk is offering me his guidance_ ,’ Drepani frowned, brushing hair out of her face. She needed to cut it somehow. It was all dry and gross at the ends, and she hated touching it. Maybe she could use her dagger?

Drepani huffed. Of _course_ she could use her dagger. She’d seen the other trolls in the village cut _their_ hair with a dagger, though in their cases, they normally had someone else do it _for_ them.

She would have to make due with just herself.

The resulting cuts were haphazard, and left her hair more unruly and uneven than ever before. She tossed the hairs to the birds; they could use it for their nests, at least. She spent the next ten minutes clawing through the various tangles and knots that were scattered throughout her hair. Jashik _tried_ to help - but all he really succeeded in doing was making her hair more of a mess with all the feathers he tried to stick into the thick locks. His efforts made her laugh.

Drepani affectionately ran her nails along Jashik’s snout, “okay, okay… I guess I have no choice but to let it be, eh?”

Jashik churred.

The young girl made her way back into her cave, hands brushing over the various bags her mother had made before disappearing. She selected a woven one - the best kind for carrying crabs and shells and rocks; and fish, if she happened to catch any.

Having selected her pack, she grabbed a spear she’d made - about as haphazard as her hair, decorated with the same paints that she used to decorate Jashik’s hide after a bath had washed off the warpaint her mother had put on him. Without a word she scrambled onto Jashik’s back. The raptor took off the second she was situated, leaving her to grasp the ropes that hung loose around his neck.

Nearly an hour passed after she reached the beach. Her bag was full of oysters, clams, a couple of fish, various shells, and a lively crab that kept trying to pinch her whenever she got too close. She wrinkled her nose at it, tapping its pinchers with her dagger. It raised both claws in response.

Drepani stared at it. It stared at her.

She released it from the confines of her bag, watching it scuttle down the beach. Jashik huffed into her hair, and Drepani crouched, poking at the sand with her dagger.

_‘Then there’s this crate…’_ she turned her gaze to the strong crate, suspicious. It had been left under an outcropping of rocks she _always_ hid the shells she found before she was ready to go.

There was a piece of folded parchment on it too. When she had arrived at the beach, it hadn’t been there, but when she had come prancing back over to the overhang the outcropping formed, she discovered the crate.

Now that she was ready to go back home, she scrutinized it. Tilted her head to the left and the right; squinted her eyes. She exhaled, and looked up at her large companion.

“Jashik… can you go smell it?”

The raptor chortled, and she blushed, pouting, “don’t you be laughin’ at me!! Muuka always taught me to be cautious…”

Jashik made no jests after that. He managed to hunker down enough to get his nose close to the crate.

The next thing Drepani knew, he was yanking the crate out from under the rock, making various sounds of what Drepani could only interpret as excitement.

“Jashik! Hey!” she had to laugh a little, as the raptor had clawed the folded parchment delicately out from under the ropes that held the wooden lid on. He was flailing it in her face moments later.

“Okay okay! I get it, I get it! What’re you so excited about anyway…?” she muttered, carefully unfolding the parchment.

> _Dearest Drepani_ \--

She clapped the pages together after reading the first words. Her heart was pounding. Jashik was poking his nose around the crate, oblivious to the turmoil that Drepani found herself in.

Suddenly, she was very glad her mother had taken the time to teach her how to read.

Heart still pounding, she slowly opened the letter - then abruptly clapped it shut again, looking around in fright. She couldn’t let herself forget that the beach was not a safe place for her to get distracted by a letter.

She did her best to attach the crate to the hump above Jashik’s tail after deducing that the items inside were of the non-breakable variety. Once it was secure enough, Drepani crawled onto Jashik’s back. The letter was clutched close to her chest the whole ride back to the cave, partially folded over her pendant.

When she was back safely at her cave, Drepani put her focus on making sure her catches for the day were properly prepared. Perhaps letting the crab go had not been the best decision she’d ever made, but if she wanted the shells, she could always catch another one. The fish were substantial enough for her as it was, and Jashik always went off to catch his own food when her scraps weren’t enough for him. The oysters and clams, while certainly not her favorite food, would tide her over for the evening.

_‘Work first, play later,’_ she chanted to herself, every time she was distracted by the crate. It was what Alba’vida had drilled into her, after all.

The sun was beginning to kiss the horizon when she finally sat down with the crate, and the letter. Her eyes danced with excitement as she peeled it open.

She read the opening phrase again:

> _Dearest Drepani,_

That it was someone who _knew_ her, set Drepani’s heart racing - and in it’s wake left an empty ache. She continued to read despite the way her hands began to shake:

> _You were not to know me. I was not to know you - and it seems as though the fates are forever working against me. The elders know where I go. They have been watching me more closely. I fear that they will do something unspeakable if they were to ever find you. I have not seen your mother for some time; why has she left you alone? How long have you been by yourself, I wonder, with no one but the ever faithful Jashik at your side? I wish I could come stay with you, but I cannot take that risk. I can’t put you in danger._

Drepani didn’t fully understand everything she read, but she could grasp at interpretations. She looked up at Jashik - who had laid down across from her - with hope in her big eyes, “chaako?”

Jashik was of no help. He merely snorted, lying his head on the ground. Drepani pouted at him, and quickly resumed her reading:

> _I couldn’t even deliver the crate, and I find it difficult to put my trust in others when it comes to you as it is, but alas, I will make due with whatever I can until I formulate a better plan to bring you to the village. Loa I wish I knew how big you were. I’ve hardly been allowed to see you. I’ve only caught glimpses here and there, but you have hair like the sea--_

The ink was smudged where “like the sea” was written, and Drepani squinted. She raised the page, looking at it from every which angle, trying to decipher what had been written before. Jashik chortled at her, and she _groaned_ , “you’re no help, you big lizard!!”

Jashik merely chortled again, kicking one of his hind legs.

> _\-- and your skin is minty, much like your mother’s. I wonder if your eyes are still as green as they were the first time I held you. There are some gifts for you in the crate. You are ever growing, and I did my best to place clothes in the crate that I think you might like._
> 
> _I hope this letter will suffice. I will do whatever I can to support you from a distance, until I can bring you to the village, and avoid any of the consequences your mother so feared._

Drepani had dropped the letter on the ground before she even finished reading the last sentence. Her fingers clawed at the crate, and after breaking one nail, she reached for her dagger. She pried off the top.

There was more than some articles of clothing inside.

A few wrapped goodies, which were sweet when Drepani stuck one in her mouth. Jashik attempted to take the whole bag from her. He relented when she tossed him a couple after squealing at him to stop. There was more jewellery - mostly earrings, of course, so Drepani assumed that at some point, her mother had let it slip that the young girl had gotten her ears pierced. At the bottom, there were a couple of wooden, beautifully painted bangles.

Drepani slipped one on, and pouted when it nearly slipped right back off. Too big for her small wrists, it seemed.

“Oh well,” she muttered, pushing the bangle up her arm till it rested snuggly around her bicep, “I can wear it higher!”

The dress, too, was a little too big for her - but she supposed she could grow into it. She could use the many colorful belts and sashes that had been stuffed into the box to cinch it more tightly around her small frame. One of the sashes was big enough to be used as a blanket.

Her eyes drifted back to the letter. It laid on the ground, crisp parchment with crisp writing.

Drepani’s mother had taught her how to write; had taught her how to grind the blackberries into a pigment that could be written with. There were old books and scrolls scattered around the cave. Drepani remembered them fondly, and as she walked into the cave, she picked one up.

This was the one that she had practiced her letters and words in. Alba’vida had been a strict teacher.

As she plucked one of the feathers from her hair, Drepani moved to the firewood, still clutching the old book. She rooted around the firewood pile for a loose piece of bark - it was the best she could do. The jungle, sadly, did not produce pieces of parchment on any of its trees.

She spared a few seconds to sharpen the tip of the feather into more of a point, and searched for some ink. There was some - mostly dry - in a small clay dish near her mother’s abandoned things. Drepani added some water to it. 

Of course, it wound up being gooey, and clumpy, but the little girl made due with what she had. She chewed on her lower lip as she did her best to write a response - the end result was a mess of scribbles, multiple crossed out words, followed by an apology for her sloppy writing. She had never gotten a real chance to practice, outside of trying to copy words above each other in the many books.

_‘I wonder if he’ll find it if I put it in the same spot,’_ she frowned, absently rubbing her thumb against the back of her pendant. The sun had already disappeared below the horizon, even if the rays continued to light up the sky.

Sleep seemed like the wiser choice.

_But it didn’t last too long. She found herself in the Emerald Dream as Naralex had called it, scowling at the plants before her. What was she even doing here? Naralex said he wasn’t expecting her for another two nights, at least, and yet here she was._

_“Wat you be plannin’, Gonk…” she muttered, picking at the grass, “dere don’ even be anybody here…”_

_A breeze drifted through the area - which was strange. Drepani’s scowl deepened, and she looked at the forest around her._

_There, in the far, far right, she could see darkness. She stared at it, confused, and got up._

_It was foreboding, but tempting. It repulsed Drepani, but beckoned that she come closer._

_She could hear it whispering._

_“Drepani?”_

_The young troll released a startled yelp, and when she turned sharply to look at Naralex, she gasped. Quickly, she looked back where she had seen the darkness--_

_To see nothing._

_It was gone._

_“Is something the matter? I wasn’t expecting you for another few days,” Naralex’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, “what are you looking at?”_

_“Um… nothin’,” she said, tilting her head, “I thought I be seein’ sometin’, bu’, it be gone now.”_

_Naralex’s eyes narrowed in the direction she was looking. He hummed. Drepani was about to question her teacher on the obvious concern he displayed, but when he smiled down at her, the questions fled. If he was smiling, then there was nothing to worry about._

_“Teacher?” she found herself venturing, even as a lump formed in her throat. She hadn’t told him her mother had left her yet. It still hurt too much._

_“Yes, Drepani?” the softness in his voice made her tears come faster than she liked._

_“What’s wrong?” Naralex pressed, kneeling down._

_Drepani threw her arms around his neck, and cried. He held her tightly, running his hand through her dishevelled hair soothingly. The night elf crooned to her, his embrace contracting more around her as her sobs grew louder._

_“Muuka leh-left me-e-e,” Drepani choked out, digging her nails into Naralex’s shoulders, “she, she be leav--, she be leavin’ me alo-o-one…”_

_“You must be so scared,” Naralex whispered, rubbing his hand up and down her back. She nodded her head, clinging to him as he rose to his feet, “do you have no one?”_

_She shook her head, sniffling, and he sighed. His body was tense, as if the information she had given him irritated him in some way._

_“I know it’s not the same as_ **_being_ ** _there, but I’m always here in the Dream if you need me.”_

_Though his tone was gentle, Drepani could hear the anger behind his words. She pressed her face against his neck, nodding._

_“And Gonk, he is always with you, isn’t he?”_

_Again, she nodded. Her chest was lighter now. It hurt less._

_Naralex held her until she stopped shaking from her sobs. There was nudging in her chest, and she pulled her arms away from his neck._

_“I bettah be goin’...”_

_“Are you sure?” Naralex’s brows narrowed back, eyes tight. Drepani nodded, rubbing at her eyes._

_“Jashik be worried… I c’n be feelin’ him pokin’ me chest,” she smiled at Naralex through her drying tears, “tank you.”_

_He returned her smile - then leaned forward to place a feathery kiss on her forehead. Drepani stared at him, wide-eyed, then giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck again. For a moment, he rocked her back and forth, and Drepani believed everything would be okay._

_“Stay safe, Drepani. We may be different, but I have grown very fond of you.”_

She woke to Jashik nudging her roughly.

“Jashik, shsh, I’m okay… ah!” the raptor nearly knocked her over when he licked her face.

Of course.

If Drepani had been crying in the Dream, then her physical body would cry as well. She should have expected as much, given that whatever she learned in the Dream she retained in the physical realm, and whatever pains she had in the Dream transferred to her physical body too.

Drepani sighed, “sorry… I didn’t mean to worry you… and it’s pretty late, huh?”

Jashik whined, and she stroked him along his snout, “time to have some lunch.”

* * *

Drepani’s next gift crate had proper inkwells, proper parchment, and proper feather pens. There were even pages upon pages of letters she could copy as practice. Full sentences too; her chaako had fluid script. Drepani was certain it would take her _years_ to reach his level of skill, and she began to practice her writing along with everything else she had to do to survive.

Writing was a pleasant escape from her daily tasks.

_“I wish I could understand what you were writing,” Naralex lamented as he looked over one of the papers Drepani had managed to drag into the Dream with her, “and look at you! Bringing things into the Dream already.”_

_She beamed at him, “I be havin’ a good teachah!”_

_Naralex flushed, smiling at her fondly, “thank you, Drepani. Say, would you like to meet some night elves your age?”_

_Drepani’s ears flicked back, “um…”_

_“Not ready yet?”_

_She could hear the hopeful tone in his voice dwindle. Drepani twisted her hair around and around, staring at the grass under her knees. Naralex had long since chosen to lie down on the grass after giving her some more lessons in combat, “um…”_

_“Drepani, it’s okay! I’m not upset - I mean, I might sound a little disappointed that you don’t want to meet them yet, but,” he poked her in the nose when she looked up at him, his smile sweet, “I can’t force you to meet them either. You should meet them when you’re ready.”_

_“Do… do dey be knowin’ ‘bout me?” she ventured, eyes wide. Naralex’s eyes tightened, and as he looked over his shoulder, so did Drepani._

_A small gasp, followed by frantic whispers, and Drepani watched in shock as three night elves who looked to be a few years older than her ran off. One tripped and fell on his face, but quickly recovered and continued running. Naralex sighed, shaking his head, but gave Drepani a broad smile._

_“Most of them are very curious, and perhaps a bit too eager to meet you.”_

_“How long have dey been dere…?”_

_“At least twenty minutes.”_

_“You didn’ tell me!!” Drepani gasped, feigning betrayal, “de only man I c’n be trustin’!!! Betrayal!!”_

_Naralex’s laughter was muffled against the grass as he tipped his head forward._

_“Oh Elune,” he chuckled, wiping at his eyes, “I think I may have done myself in by teaching you a wider vocabulary.”_

_“Huh!! I be likin’ de big words. Dey be fun ta say,” she waved the piece of paper around, “I realleh wish I be knowin’ how de magic here be workin’...”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Well, like wat Gonk be sayin’. An’ you be askin’ looong time ago, how I be knowin’ Darna-- Darnu-- Darnassisiassian.”_

_His cheeks hollowed out as Naralex sucked in his lips. His eyes were wide. Drepani pouted at him._

_“Wat?”_

_“... close. It’s Darnassian.”_

_“Dat’s wat I be sayin’!!”_

_“You said--” and he snorted a laugh, shaking his head, “y-you said ‘Darnassisiassian’.”_

_Drepani’s pout deepened, “Yeah!! Darnassisisassian!”_

_Naralex could not hold back his laughter. It filled the space around them, and Drepani retaliated by shifting into a cobra and slapping at his hands with her tail._

_“Ha ha h-DREPANI-- OW!” he exclaimed through his laughter. He rolled away from her insistent tail swatting, and Drepani slithered after him. He was_ **_still_ ** _laughing when she lunged onto him, flailing her body wildly._

_“Drepani-- okay okay!! I’ll stop if you stop!”_

_“You be stoppin’ first!”_

_“I-I’m tuh-trying!”_

_“YOU DON’ BE TRYIN’ VERY HARD!!!”_

_Naralex wrangled her in his hands, and so, she shifted back into her troll form. She pouted deeply at him as his chuckles finally began to subside._

_“You’re adding too many ‘ss’s to your Darnassian, Drepani.”_

_“Darnassisian.”_

_“That was closer.”_

_“Darnassisan?”_

_“Almost! Darnassian,” Naralex repeated again, “Dar,_ **_na_ ** _, see, an.”_

_“Darnassian.”_

_“That’s it!”_

_“Yay!!” Drepani threw her arms up in the air and flopped back against the grass, “Darnassian!!”_

_The older druid smiled fondly at her, “see? A little practice goes a long way. We’ll have you talking to the other drudis in no time, Drepani.”_

Her vision of the Dream faded, and Drepani fell into a restful slumber.

This time when she went down to the beach, Drepani left a short letter for who she still assumed was her chaako where she always did, tucked under a heavy rock. It would hold the letter in place in case of bad weather. Exchanging letters every week had developed into a habit, and it wasn’t one that Drepani minded at all.

Her father told her about the ins and outs of the village, and when she asked why the elders had so much sway, he told her that it was not something he could explain through a letter.

“There are no written words that could convey the level of distaste I have for them,” he had said in one such letter, and Drepani felt it best to let the topic drop. There were other things she could ask him: how were clothes made? How did he make his ink, did he know anything about herbs, did he know anyone who _knew_ anything about herbs?

“A woman, her name is Nieh’don. She often journeys to the east of your cave, where there are many herbs. Perhaps you can watch her one day,” was his response to that question.

She’d taken an interest to herbs since being in the Emerald Dream, but she had only mustered up the courage to ask Naralex about the strange, silvery plant she often saw around the base of trees. He had told her it was called silverleaf, and then said that he would bring some herbs into the Dream for her to look at - but that would take him some time.

Drepani went where her chaako had said she would find this Nieh’don. She slithered up a tree - Jashik nearby, of course, grazing on the berries and grass - and waited. She waited, and waited, and waited, until finally a woman with deep teal skin and curly green hair that was as deep as the leaves around her arrived, a basket full of flowers slung over one arm. She had a small girl with her too, and Drepani watched from her spot in the tree.

“So, Fey’jun, this is silverleaf.”

Drepani knew that.

“And they always grow by the base of trees. They need the shade; direct sunlight is no good for them. They thrive here in the shadows.”

Drepani _didn’t_ know that. She listened further, coiling her tail tightly around the branch so she could let herself hang down a little, ensuring that she didn’t need to strain her ears too much to hear Nieh’don.

“What ‘bout these ones, muuka?” the little girl asked, and Nieh’don laughed. She brushed her fingers over the moss, before delicately plucking one of the flowers from the bed of green.

“These aren’t herbs, Fey. These are little moss flowers - nothing more, nothing less,” she placed the flower in her daughter’s hair, “they’re pretty, though. They would look nice pressed, and stuck to shells, or stuck in your hair. Every flower has a purpose, no matter how late it blooms, no matter if it already wilted or not. Some flowers even die, only to bloom again. Remember that, Fey’jun.”

Drepani’s eyes widened, just like Fey’jun’s. She could only stare.

For whatever reason, Jashik wandered toward the two. Drepani released a confused hiss, then quickly jerked herself back up into the tree. Jashik churred at Nieh’don.

“... J… no, it can’t be,” the older woman’s voice was filled with disbelief. She hesitantly rose to her feet, taking a step toward Jashik. He patiently waited, and churred at her again.

“Jashik?” she questioned, and he chortled, stamping one foot twice. Nieh’don appeared stunned, but all Drepani could do was guess. It wasn’t possible to read a person’s expression from the back of their head, after all.

_‘... wait. She… she knows Jashik?’_ and the realization began to settle in.

If this woman knew Jashik, then she must have known--

“Where’s Alba’vida? Why did she leave?”

Jashik sighed, looking down at the ground. Nothing but nonsensical phrases left Nieh’don, and her daughter hugged close to her leg. Nieh’don sounded frazzled.

“But she… tell her to come home, Jashik. My An’jen misses her - _I_ miss her. I’m sure Deonte misses her too,” Nieh’don pleaded. Jashik simply sighed again, and walked over to the tree Drepani was in. He headbutted it.

Drepani was shaken. This woman was her mother’s _friend_.

Jashik headbutted the tree again. Drepani slithered off the branch, landing unceremoniously in the bushes. She hardly heard Nieh’don’s gasp, and Jashik had already rummaged around in the bushes to find her. He plucked her out of the thick green leaves, grip loose enough that his teeth didn’t cause Drepani any discomfort.

The raptor chuffed at Nieh’don one last time, then sprinted off. Again, Drepani hardly heard the other woman calling for Jashik. It sounded so far off; so distant, and foreign, and Drepani wondered if what she heard was real, or if Nieh’don, and Fey’jun had been a figment of her imagination.

The next letter Drepani left for her chaako read:

> _Your name is Deonte._

He had so far managed to avoid telling her, and it had taken Drepani some time before she noticed that he didn’t sign his letters with it either. The excitement of having _someone_ to talk to that could leave her letters was overpowering.

This time when Drepani got her crate, it was lighter than usual. She could carry it in her arms herself, and when she was at the safety of the cave, she pried it open.

Inside, she found one crisp sheet of parchment, folded neatly and resting on top of a dark blue fabric canvas. She was mesmerized: there were golden flecks woven into the dark blue. They looked like stars.

Tentatively she unfolded the parchment, heart pounding, unsure of what she would find:

> _Yes._
> 
> _Love, Deonte._

Drepani had only ever dreamed that such a simple answer would bring so much warmth to her heart.

* * *

Another year passed. Drepani scratched an additional tick to the cave wall that had been counting her years.

She was eager to practice her stealth techniques on Jashik ever since Naralex had shown her how to lunge from the shadows, and how to wreath herself in magic to enhance the strength of her blows.

The large raptor had no love for these antics of hers.

“Uuugh!” Drepani writhed on the ground, flicking her tongue and tail in a tantrum, “you’re not gonna’ hurt me, Jashik! I gotta’ practice my sneakin’ somehow…”

Jashik clicked his tongue. Drepani shifted back into a troll, pouting at him, “well… okay, _fine_. I guess you still have those wild instincts, but it’s better to try’n sneak up on you than… than a tiger!”

The raptor stamped his feet, and Drepani sighed in exasperation, “if you don’t want _that_ , then you gotta’ let me practice on you!!”

With a huff, Jashik stalked into the cave. Drepani scrambled to her feet to follow him. He had opted to curl up in a far corner, looking over his back at her with slitted eyes.

“Ooooh!! Fine! You be that way then!!” Drepani exclaimed. Jashik huffed; Drepani stomped over to her pile of pillows. She fiddled with the pendant around her neck.

She was ten years old now - or perhaps more accurately, ten and a half. She sighed, sitting down on her mass of pillows and blankets with her various pieces of parchment paper. At Deonte, and Naralex’s advice, she had started sketching the plant life and animals around her. Her drawings were… lackluster to say the least.

But she kept on trying.

Jashik was an all too willing subject for Drepani’s sketches, and regardless of how well or poorly Drepani thought she drew him, the raptor hoarded any and all drawings she made of him.

And slept on them, as raptors _clearly_ do.

A smile crossed Drepani’s lips, “lately Naralex has been praisin’ me. Says I summon roots faster than most of the other druids he’s trained.”

She looked up at Jashik, “what do you think of that?”

The raptor chuffed, and Drepani sighed, “okay, okay. I’ll try not to let it get to my head.”

Jashik hopped up from his corner, and settled down beside her. He did his best to discreetly look over her shoulder as she doodled, and jotted down notes beside her sketches.

During their practice sessions in the Emerald Dream, Naralx had alluded to the fact that Drepani was not the first troll to ever find themself in the Emerald Dream. She seemed to be one of the first specifically led there by a Loa, but Naralex - being an elf, and living for a long, long time as a result - had seen the odd troll here and there.

It was simply the fact that a _child_ was incredibly rare.

He had often nonchalantly spoken about different professions: things that could be taken up, and used as a means to support oneself. Drepani wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that, but she assumed that it had to do with being able to cook and write and fight.

All things she could currently do, of course.

And when the man had mentioned herbalism…

Drepani had taken an immediate interest.

After all, she had been interested in herbs for a long time, and judging by the knowing smile that had crossed Naralex’s lips, he had known she would immediately take to herbalism.

Naralex had started with bringing a peacebloom with him to the Dream: a little white flower with a yellow center. He explained to her that it had healing properties - especially when combined with silverleaf - and was often used by alchemists to create healing potions. Drepani had listened intently, completely enthralled by the very idea that there were plants scattered all over the world that could be used to help people.

Next, he brought in a silverleaf. Drepani jumped right into telling him what she knew about it, how it needed to grow in the shade because the sun burned its leaves. He had been pleasantly surprised by her knowledge, and further explained that it could be used on its own to bolster one’s natural defences, while when combined with other herbs, such as earthroot, it could grant one more strength. They all had to be in potion form, of course, but simply consuming the herbs wasn’t too harmful to ones body.

He had also off-handedly mentioned that Gonk was still working on getting through to someone he referred to as shan’do, someone who could teach her more than Naralex himself could ever hope to.

And when asked what shan’do meant, Naralex had responded with “honored teacher”.

Naturally, the next time she saw Naralex, she referred to him by this title. Drepani had never believed that she could make a grown man blush so fiercely, but he thanked her profusely for honoring him in such a way before requesting that she stick to calling him simply ‘Teacher Naralex”.

Sighing, Drepani got up from her nest. Jashik churred at her in question.

“I just want to get away for awhile. Maybe practice some spells. Naralex has been teachin’ me lots and lots lately! Cuz I keep pesterin’ him about this herb and that herb and this plant and that plant,” she giggled, stroking her nails along Jashik’s forehead, “he keeps tellin’ me that me bein’ so curious gets him a _lot_ of suspicious looks with how much he’s goin’ in and out of the herbalism shops! I don’t really be knowin’ why he seems unwillin’ to tell his other elf friends about me though… though, it seems he’s more worried about tellin’ adults about me, ‘cuz I already know that his other students know ‘bout me, and he wants me to meet _them._ ”

Jashik chuffed, and Drepani pursed her lips, “maybe it’s because the adults are more closed off than the kids are? I dunno! Anyway, I’m off! If I need you, I’ll scream.”

She took off into the jungles before Jashik could further protest. The sun was high in the sky, and weaving through the foliage unnoticed was a simple task for her.

It wasn’t until she reached the roots near the beach that anything of interest happened.

First, there were the murlocs. Drepani hadn’t noticed them initially, but yelling and screaming caught her attention.

She was startled by what she saw.

The murlocs were dragging troll children down the beach!

Drepani watched as the red-haired boy she kept finding herself drawn to nearly got away from the murlocs. When one tackled him, he put up a ferocious fight, punching and kicking and snarling. One of the bigger murlocs picked him up and threw him hard against a tree. His heavy drop to the sand was enough to make one of the bigger girls fight viciously - and it was a bad course of action for the murlocs themselves, as the children had all screamed.

The bigger girl soon went limp after she was struck on the back of the neck by the wooden part of a spear. A girl who looked similar to her cried out sharply - then she silenced herself with a hand when the murlocs turned on her, making various angry sounds.

_‘Wait. Wait, wait! That’s the hunter who tried to catch me before! An’jen?? Right?! And that, that little girl, that’s Fey’jun!’_

Hurriedly, Drepani started sizing up the situation. She coiled in the bushes, tongue flicking, eyes calculating.

The murlocs were starting to move more quickly, and Drepani slithered through the bushes to follow them. There was a green haired girl that kept on trying to use magic, but the murlocs never remained still long enough for her to get a spell off. The white-haired boy wouldn’t stop screaming, and ultimately, the murlocs knocked him out too.

The last child that put up any sort of struggle had hair like fire, and briefly Drepani thought of her mother - until she too, was knocked out, and the murlocs continued on their way.

Drepani resolved to help them.

She bolted out of her hiding place, mouth wide, spitting hisses. She lashed her tail over the head of one that had no child in its arms. It ran off, screeching in fear. Drepani threw herself into the middle of them, rearing up, knowing that they were afraid of her because she would remind them of the naga.

As she expected, a good four of them bolted off in terror at her presence - but the one with the spear faced her. It released a gurgling battlecry and charged. Drepani dropped her belly to the ground and lunged, slamming her head into its gut.

The second it was on its back she sunk her fangs into its throat and thrashed.

Several of the kids who were still conscious got up and raced back the way they had been taken from, yelling that they would get adults. Fey’jun stayed behind to try and drag the unconscious An’jen to safety.

Drepani raised her head. Blood covered her face, and she peered in the direction the murlocs had run, tongue flicking. They still had some children with them. She was about to go after them when she saw him.

  
The red haired boy had been dropped.

Quickly, she slithered over to him. She carefully wrapped her mouth around his arm and started pulling. Perhaps she had practiced slithering backwards specifically for this moment, but it was still a tremendous task. She dropped his arm several times for fear of causing him any harm.

Just as she was beginning to get the hang of it, she heard him mutter, “nnn… Zal…”

Drepani froze, and his molten eyes fluttered open to look at her, “Zal… m’friend, he… he’s the one with the braid…?”

The red haired boy’s arm dropped out of Drepani’s mouth. She stared as if she were in a trance. He gazed at her blearily, his expression overcome by intrigue.

Then he reached up to caress her face.

Somewhere, she heard a clap of thunder. It was loud, and it scared her, and she bolted down the beach in the direction the murlocs had run.

It was mysterious even to her, when she felt as though Gonk were running alongside her - and something about her own form changed. Drepani had legs again, but they were thicker, and heavier, as if she had grown muscle. The trees were moving past her at an almost blinding speed.

Up ahead, the murlocs appeared to be in an argument. They gestured wildly at each other, while several children attempted to crawl discreetly away, or grabbed at their unconscious friends.

Drepani’s eyes honed in on the boy with the white hair - Zal, as he had been called.

She released an ear-splitting screech and leapt at a murloc. Briefly, Drepani caught sight of her feet.

They looked like Jashik’s.

Startled, she found herself smacking into the murloc’s face with no arms or legs. She battered the frog-like creature with open-mouthed strikes, letting her rows of teeth scour deep lines in its head.

Her screech, at least, had dispersed the murlocs - along with the other kids, who ran in the direction Drepani had come from.

Before the murlocs could regroup, Drepani gave chase to several, snapping at their ankles. By the time her excitement started to die, the murlocs were running away from her, and away from the direction the kids had gone.

_‘Good. Now for Zal_.’

The boy was lying face down in the sand. Unlike his red haired friend, he was wearing a shirt. Drepani grasped the back of Zal’s collar in her jaw, raised him as high off the ground as she could, and began to slither toward the fleeing children.

Her vision swam after hardly three seconds, and soon she found herself gasping for breath on the sand.

_Get up, Drepani, get up._

She struggled to her feet. Her legs and arms felt like jello, but she pulled at Zal anyway. He groaned in pain as he started to come to.

Then she heard the voices.

Scared, she dropped Zal again, noticing that his eyes were barely open as he peered at her. Drepani’s fright only grew.

As much as she told herself, time and time again, that she wanted to be with the other trolls, she found herself too afraid of the prospect.

Before she could escape to the safety of the jungle, her arm was grasped in a much larger hand. Someone, some _how_ , had appeared behind her.

“Ey waitaminute now, where d’ya think you’re goin’?”

Drepani was jerked around to face the man that held her - and her eyes widened upon noticing that he wasn’t exactly a man, but certainly not a boy. His eyes were wide as well.

“Holy Loa why do you have _blood_ all over your face?!”

Instead of attempting to make any explanation, Drepani struggled in his grip; he was unperturbed, “stop your fussin’.”

“Juh _-JASHIK_!” Drepani shrieked, clawing at his hand. She tried to shift into a cobra again to escape, but all her body did was shimmer weakly.

Jashik came barreling out of the jungle. He skid to a halt right before he could have collided with the older boy. Jashik snapped his jaws in the boy’s face - but again, to Drepani’s dismay, he was unperturbed.

“Oi, now you’re both just bein’ all sorts of unreasonable,” he chided, reaching toward Jashik. The black raptor screeched, nearly bit off the boy’s hand, and bolted back to the jungle. He began to bite and tear and rip and slash at the trees, making various vocalizations to further emphasize his distress.

Drepani had given up trying to get the older boy to let her go. She sat on the sand instead, gasping for breath, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Kunan’ji!”

“What now, Kuzari?” he sounded annoyed.

“Let her go!” Kuzari snapped. She was an older girl, and several of the children had gathered around her legs. A tiger paced around the group, watching. It appeared to be Kuzari’s pet, “the raptor is in obvious distress. Let her go.”

Kunan’ji pouted, “but--”

“Let her _go_ , Kunan’ji.”

The two stared each other down, while Jashik continued to make a mess of the trees around him. He started stamping his feet, and looking at the other children as if implying he would attack them if Drepani was not released soon.

Kunan’ji sighed.

The moment he released Drepani, she lurched to her feet. She stumbled her way to Jashik. He lowered his head for her to grab and raised her in the air, turning his head back as far as he could to get her onto his back.

Seconds before he took off, Drepani looked back at the trolls.

Most looked confused. She was one of them, after all, why would she want to leave?

She was unprepared for seeing the look of desperation on the red haired boy’s face.

“Wait--!”

But Jashik had already sprinted away.

The raptor’s path was far more erratic than usual. Drepani thought nothing of it, and clung to him. Why, _why_ did she not want to stay? Why was she so scared to be with the other trolls. Against her chest, her raptor pendant was cold.

_‘Because you don’t want to lose them like you lost muuka.’_

Drepani choked on a breath, refusing to let herself cry over it.

_‘Because you don’t want to be left behind again.’_

Yet another breath was choked on in her efforts to fend off the tears. It had been a while since she’d cried over it. Drepani only calmed when she looked up from Jashik’s neck and saw the familiar sight of the cave. She slid off his back, and had barely touched the ground when the raptor sped off again.

She stared, brows furrowed. He’d taken an erratic enough path, did he _really_ need to go back and muss up his path even more?

The seconds dragged on with Drepani opting to simply sit and regain her strength. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes…

Gave way to an uncanny stare on her back.

She was not alone. Her raptor pendant burned against her chest.

Terrified, she shakily got up from her seat. The feeling of someone drawing closer beared down on her shoulders. If she could get to the cave and hide, she would be safe. She would be _safe_.

She bolted for the cave - but her body was too tired. She’d spent all her strength trying to help the other trolls, and she fell down before she could even make it three steps. Drepani tried to pull herself to the cave, but found herself swept up into warm arms instead. The unbearable heat of her pendant was replaced with a pleasant, comforting warmth.

Part of her thought she would see the face of whoever now held her, but there was a pinch at the back of her neck.

All she remembered hearing was, “Amita, Amita, you’re safe. It’s okay. Please rest.”

* * *

Two weeks had passed since the incident. She’d woken from the ordeal feeling refreshed, and kept her distance from the village for a while.

She’d found another letter from Deonte, of course, filled mostly with praise toward her actions - though he did warn her against expending that much strength again.

And she remembered being called “Amita”.

Something about this name resonated more with her than Drepani did. Maybe it was because being called Drepani made her think of her mother. Maybe it was because she thought if she left behind the name Drepani, she could leave behind her old mistakes and start fresh with Amita.

Or maybe it was because the person who had called her Amita had a voice that she recognized.

Perhaps, if she ever gained the courage to be with the other trolls, she could use her new name as a means to find her father.

_“Your father?”_

_Naralex, of course, questioned her decision. Amita fiddled with the grass on the forest floor. In this session, she and her teacher were simply discussing. Naralex still had not told her why they weren’t practicing any spells._

_At least he had told her what the herbs she had brought him today were. Silverleaf - again, it was one of her favorites to drag in - and mageroyal. He had been startled by the presence of the red flower._

_“It don’ be like I’m givin’ up my old name…” she muttered, looking off at some nearby flowers, “bu’... if de one who be callin’ me Amita be my chaako, den, if I be callin’ m’self Amita, don’ dat mean I could be findin’ him fastah?”_

_“That will only work if you actually join the other trolls, Amita,” and a laugh escaped him when she gave him the deepest pout she could manage, “come now child. You know I jest.”_

_“Jest?”_

_“Tease,” he explained, one of his long ears flicking, “you know, I was looking into the history of my people recently. Somewhere down the line, we had forgotten that we were trolls once! I find that quite fascinating.”_

_Amita propped herself up on her arms, curious, “den why don’ dere be more trolls in de whole druid aspect o’ tings?”_

_Naralex hummed in thought, “well, I was wondering about that myself. Perhaps it has to do with how much more superstitious you are? Not that that’s a bad thing, of course! But, we night elves only worship Elune, the Goddess of the Moon. To my understanding - which is quite lacking, mind you - trolls have far many more beings that they worship.”_

_He nodded in the direction of Gonk when the raptor emerged, practically out of thin air, “Gonk, for example, is one of many Loa. Here, I’ll teach you some new words.”_

_“Okay,” Amita inched closer to him, ears perked up in interest. Naralex wrote on the ground with magic._

_“Night elves, you could say, are monotheistic. That’s the belief in one, singular god,” he underlined the word, and Amita mouthed the letters to herself so she would remember how to spell it. Next to it, he began to write another word, “trolls, on the other hand, are polytheistic. That is the belief in multiple gods,” he smiled at Amita when he raised his head from the words, “neither of these beliefs are wrong, in my opinion! And then again, I’m not sure how being monotheist or polytheist plays into there being a lack of troll druids.”_

_“Loa are selfish,” Gonk chimed in, “we don’t like to share~ Technically, I’ve claimed this little one as mine, and mine alone - though, I will admit, I’m more willing to share the worship than most of the other Loa are.”_

_Naralex chuckled, and his ear flicked again. Amita wondered why, and quietly he asked, “is he coming?”_

_“Yes. It took me a few years, but I’ve succeeded.”_

_Amita sat upright. Nervousness washed over her when Naralex fluidly got to his feet._

_And then, he bowed._

_“Shan’do.”_

Jashik stared at Amita. She stared at him.

She’d fallen over while she was meditating, and now her back ached from hitting the stone floor.

“... Jashik. You won’t believe who I met.”

He churred at her in concern.

“His name’s Malfurion Stormrage. Oh Jashik!!!” she rolled over and scrambled to her feet, hugging the raptor’s face, “he taught me _so_ many things!! I gotta’ practice! He wants to see me again, next week!!”

She danced in place, overcome by excitement. Jashik stamped his feet as well, his vocalizations betraying his own excitement.

Amita eventually took several breaths to calm down.

“He wants me to practice my stealth, most of all,” she informed the raptor. Jashik straightened. Amita stared at him. He looked to the side.

“See? This is what happens when you _don’t_ let me practice on you.”

Jashik wailed and retreated back to his pile of drawings. Amita rolled her eyes, “well, if you’re gonna’ be like that, then I’m gonna’ go back to the village! What better place to practice my stealth than on the outskirts?”

Her guardian protested weakly, and Amita informed him that he could protest all he liked; she was still going.

As per usual, her presence went unnoticed at first. Amita cautiously observed the other trolls. They were decorating for something, stringing lights and tiki masks between the many huts. It came as a surprise to Amita when she saw a large group of girls go one way, and a large group of boys go another way.

After a moment of deliberation, Amita hurried through the foliage after the group of girls. They hadn’t gone too far into the jungles, but Loa, she hadn’t realized there was such a large pool of water here!

_‘Must have slipped my attention because I was always too busy watching the trolls, not really where they were going,’_ Amita mused to herself, coiling behind a temporary looking open tent - she really wasn’t sure what it was called. Strong poles held up a large cloth tarp, with baskets and racks of white clothes. Some women - one whom Amita recognized as Kuzari - was busy dipping colorful flowers in white powder. Amita wondered why, then skittered under one of the tables, and dropped into stealth.

Of all the girls who came rushing into the tent, she only recognized the fiery An’jen. They were chatting excitedly about a coming of age celebration, and how they were all eager to finally prove themselves as adults to their families.

“You think your father’s going to be happy about your choices, An’jen?”

The huntress scoffed, pulling a simple white skirt over her hips, before grabbing a pretty white blouse, “do I look like I care what _he_ thinks? I’m gonna’ be a huntress, just like Alba’vida. And be strong like her too.”

Amita sunk lower to the ground. Once again, a troll from the village mentioned her mother.

“Alba’vida was always someone to look up to! I’m sad she disappeared…” the girl jostled An’jen, who was braiding white flowers into her hair, “you don’t think you’re going to disappear like her too, huh?”

“I might!” An’jen exclaimed, “if my father keeps being such a stuck up piece of elder!”

Sputtered laughter escaped most of the girls, and Amita waited for most of them to leave the tent before she rushed out herself. The water nearby smelled sharp, reminding Amita of oranges. A flick of her tongue, and sweet strawberries mixed with the pleasant scent of vanilla struck her next.

At the very least, it was easy to follow the girls. The perfume from the water wafted off of them, and Amita let her curiosity get the better of her. She ducked behind a stack of crates, peeking over top them. They had all reconvened with the group of boys she’d seen run off earlier.

Now, Amita had not forgotten that the Darkspear trolls - as Deonte had referred to them as - had patrols. She barely caught sight of two males making their rounds, and once she was sure they had passed, Amita slithered quickly after the group. An older troll had gotten them all riled up, and they were walking quickly toward the outskirts of the village, _‘I need to know where they’re going!’_

Amita was nearly caught up with them when a shadow fell over her.

She bolted under the nearest stack of crates, right before she was grabbed. One of the males from the patrol she had seen backtracked, and was crouched by the tracks that Amita had left. She knew he could see her.

“Rokhan?” his companion wandered back over to him. This Rokhan fellow had a boyish smirk on his lips.

“Well now aren’t you a lil’ shy eh?” and he was suddenly in front of the crates that Amita had darted under. She stayed as still as possible, and Rokhan’s companion hummed over her tracks.

“A snake?”

“A cobra. Y’know, I’m thinkin’ you must be the one that young An’jen got in a fuss with her chaako about a few years ago.”

Amita soon found herself hanging in the air. Immediately she spat a hiss at the troll, snapping her body from side to side until she managed to wrap her muscular tail around his arm. Rokhan chuckled, then drew his head back when she attempted to bite his face.

“Mon, you are lucky you have such big hands,” his companion muttered, and Rokhan scoffed.

“So it’s a bit big for a cobra! So what?”

“Not many of us can just _hold_ one like that, Rokhan.”

He pursed his lips. Amita ceased her struggling. Jashik obviously wasn’t nearby; otherwise, he would have come charging out of the jungle already.

She didn’t _want_ them to know but-

Shifting back into her troll form was the best option Amita had. The looks of disbelief made her decision worth it.

And an uncanny stare settled on her back.

“Wha--”

“It was a _child!?”_

Amita scrambled between Rokhan’s legs, narrowly dodged the other male, and made a beeline straight for the jungles. Once again, Rokhan appeared suddenly beside her.

A bolt of lightning struck between the two, forcing Rokhan to jump back. Amita screamed, of course, but managed to dive into the foliage anyway. Rokhan had snarled.

Amita quickly shifted back into a cobra once she got a hold of herself. She slithered far down the beach, not caring what Rokhan and his companion were muttering about. The uncanny stare remained on her person, and no matter where she went, she felt it.

_‘I’m in stealth!! How can this gaze still be on me?!’_ she was miffed. Amita could fully understand how Rokhan had discovered her: he’d drawn close enough to sense that she was there. And, regardless of her being in stealth, her long body would leave tracks on the sand.

The uncanny stare remained - and then it dawned on her, _‘wait… two weeks ago… when I thought I was alone, there was that stare, and then someone came to help me…’_

She slithered out of the jungle, looking for the source of the stare, forgetting that she _really_ needed to work on leaving less obvious tracks when she was on the beach.

_‘Chaako?’_

She got no response, naturally, and the gaze still remained. From where she was now, she could see that the now massive group of boys and girls had gone to the top of a tall, tall cliff. Amita wasn’t sure what they were doing, but soon enough she caught sight of them coming out of the water. Their white clothes were stained with a variety of colors, and the white flowers that Amita had seen the girls weaving into their hair were bright again.

Of course the white powder would have washed off if the teens were jumping from the top of the cliff into the water below.

Amita watched for several more minutes, noting that the boys had flowers on their heads too. Was that supposed to mean something significant? Did the white powder mean something significant?

_‘It has to, right? They went into the water with white clothes on, and now their clothes are stained different colors! That’s supposed to mean something!’_

Sniffling drew Amita out of her thoughts, and she turned her head to find the source of the sound.

Outside a hut, she could just barely make out the form of a child - one that she had seen before, when she was foiling the murloc’s plan to run off with a group of children her age.

Amita’s curiosity got the better of her, and she slithered closer.

Were those… bruises? The other girl wiped at her eyes, and wrapped her arms around her legs. There was a great deal of rummaging around in the hut behind her, and the girl appeared to bite down on her lip to stop from making any noise.

Against her better judgement, Amita slithered closer. And, further against her better judgement, she dropped out of her stealth. She flicked her tongue, releasing a quiet hiss.

“Ah-!!” the girl clapped her hand to her mouth, staring at Amita with frightful eyes. One was black. Amita slithered closer.

“Uh um wh-wai--”

She pressed her nose to the black eye, flicking her tongue again. Shan’do Stormrage had shown her how to use one simple healing spell while in her cobra form. It didn’t completely heal the bruise, but it healed the wound enough that it only faintly showed.

Amita didn’t know where to go from there. She ended up dipping her head to the other girl and started slithering away.

“Don’t--!”

Amita paused.

“Please don’t go, snakey…” the girl rubbed at her eyes again, “I don’t have many friends… will… will you stay with me… for a while…?”

Amita coiled in on herself, flicking her tail back and forth. The girl seemed to take this as a challenge of sorts.

“M-my name is Luxanai… I prefer Ani though… n-not that you can talk, but… but I guess you should know, snakey. You’re um. You’re the snakey that An’jen chased some time ago, aren’t you?”

Amita reared up in interest at this.

“Do you have a name, snakey?” and Ani seemed to only be asking for the sake of making her stay.

Boy, did Amita have a surprise for her.

She cautiously slithered closer, turned, and began to drag the end of her tail in the dirt.

‘Amita’, she wrote. Luxanai beamed at her.

“Amita,” she said, giggling softly to herself, “I hope I see you around more often.”

Luxanai looked over her shoulder, and sighed, “I think that everyone will think I’m crazy if I tell them that I made friends with a snakey… they’ll prob’ly say I’m lyin’.”

The druid rested her head on Luxanai’s shoulder, bringing the other girl to giggle again. Luxanai reached up to pat Amita on the head - she allowed it. After all, Luxanai’s hand was shaking, and that wasn’t something Amita could ignore in good conscious.

Soon after, Amita lowered her head from Luxanai’s shoulder to her thigh. She subconsciously coiled herself around the other girl. Luxanai seemed content to just ramble about some of the other children, and Amita paid only half attention.

She wasn’t sure how long she remained at Luxanai’s side, simply giving the other girl the comfort of her company, but when someone harshly called for Luxanai, the little girl jolted.

Amita flopped onto the ground, startled, and was further confused by Luxanai waving her hands in a frantic shooing motion.

“Y-you gotta’ go, snakey, b-before my family finds you,” her expression grew saddened, as if she were on the verge of tears, “I… I hope you’ll stop by again sometime…”

The cobra growled softly, then quickly went on her way after dropping into her stealth - she’d heard a raptor cry just seconds after Luxanai had finished speaking, and slithered in that direction. Jashik was waiting for her just within the line of trees.

Later that evening, Amita risked returning.

The beach was lit up with bonfires, and clearly, whatever the trolls were celebrating was a huge deal to them.

It was easier for Amita to hide in the dancing shadows cast by the bonfires. The trolls were laughing, feasting, and having a wondrous time by the looks of things.

Resentment for Alba’vida bubbled up in Amita’s chest. She could have been with them. She could have been having fun, but no, she was out in the jungles, alone, and not participating in whatever joyous occasion was being celebrated.

_‘Coming of age celebration... What does that even mean?’_ she hated how little she truly knew. Perhaps she should ask Deonte about it. Maybe it would be something he was actually willing to talk about.

She watched as the massive group began dancing. Amita wanted so badly to be a part of it, and it didn’t help at all when she saw the red haired boy join in the fun with a group of kids their age, particularly the white haired boy he called Zal, and the girl with the deep green hair. Obviously the three of them were close.

Amita slithered away - away from the laughter and the music and the fun, and back to her lonely cave.

Seconds after shifting out of her cobra form, tears slid down her cheeks. She rubbed furiously at her face, disguising her sobs with hiccups of frustration. Jashik snuffed at her hair, and she shook her head.

Instead of going to bed, Amita chose to meditate. If she was so tired of being alone, then she might as well take Naralex and shan’do Stormrage up on their suggestion that she meet other druids her age. They were all eager to meet her. She might as well throw all caution to the wind, and see if they would accept her.

_When she sat up in the Dream, she could hear voices to her right. Amita got to her feet, and walked toward the voices, determined._

_She pushed through a bush and saw them there. Naralex, and Malfurion were the only two night elves she recognized._

_Choosing not to truly push her luck - especially given the presence of two older looking night elves - Amita called out to Malfurion, “shan’do.”_

_One of the older elves gasped and lurched to his feet. He glared at her, and with all the pent up frustration Amita had in her little body, she glared right back at him. He had a full beard, angry yellow eyes, and long, lime green hair, that seemed darker in the Dream than Amita believed it to be. This was, of course, the same color as his beard and his unnecessarily long eyebrows. He wore nothing more than a long skirt over his legs._

_The other older elf, a woman, stared at Amita in shock. She was a beautiful woman, wearing simple robes. Her hair was cropped short, at her shoulders - perhaps a little longer - and a more pleasant forest green than the man’s. She had kind, brilliant blue eyes, and tattoos on her face that reminded Amita of curved, slim daggers._

_“Amita!” Naralex greeted, sounding both pleased to see her and anxious. He scrambled to his feet, walking swiftly to her side. Amita could tell that Naralex didn’t trust his older companions, if the way he glanced over his shoulder in trepidation was anything to go by._

_“You look upset.”_

_“You be lookin’ suspicious,” Amita retorted, twisting one hand in her frayed skirt, and the other hand in her raptor pendant. Deonte had sent her clothes, of course, but she was afraid she would ruin them, and stuck to her tatters instead._

_“You brought a_ **_troll_ ** _to the_ **_Dream_ ** _?”_

_“Fandral, she isn’t the first troll to come here and you know that,” Malfurion’s voice was stern. It wasn’t a tone Amita was used to hearing from her gentle shan’do, “Gonk brought her here.”_

_“Gonk!”_

_“One of the Loa,” the woman mused._

_Much to Amita’s surprise, the children who had been stunned to silence by Amita’s arrival, all scrambled to their feet. They rushed her and Naralex, expressions a mix of curiosity and eagerness._

_“You’re the little troll Naralex told us all about!”_

_“I mean some of us snuck up on her and Naralex that one time and she noticed us…”_

_“And you went splat on your face!”_

_“I did not go splat on my face!”_

_Amita was overwhelmed. She clung to Naralex’s leg, and Malfurion waded into the small group of kids, shushing them and gently maneuvering them into a line._

_“You’re all going to overwhelm her with your excitement, little ones. Let her meet you one at a time. You two first.”_

_Amita wasn’t sure why these two were going at the same time, but the boy was a wee bit taller than the girl. His hair and skin were pale, while her skin and hair was luminous; he was pale blue and white, and she was tan purple and green. The boy wore only a long skirt - a dark blue - while the girl wore a simple robe - bright white._

_“Lathorius,” he introduced, bowing politely to Amita._

_“Lilliandra,” she greeted, bowing politely as well. Amita returned the gesture._

_“Amita.”_

_“They’re twins,” Naralex muttered as Lathorius, and Lilliandra darted to Malfurion, giggling excitedly._

_Next was the boy that Amita had seen who had - as one of the other children had put it - went splat on his face._

_“C-Clintar Dreamwalker,” he stammered, barely able to maintain eye contact with Amita. His hair was short and fluffy, and his skin was the same pale blue as Lathorius’. Amita gave him a nod, and bit her lip against mentioning that he_ **_was_ ** _, in fact, the one who had fallen flat on his face when trying to run away so many nights ago._

_Next up was a bubbly girl. Her hair was braided into two cute loops, dark blue in color, and her skin was a light, lilac tone._

_“I’m Thisalee Crow!!” she exclaimed, grasping both of Amita’s hands in hers. Her eyes were brilliant, her smile broad, “pleased to meet you, Amita!!”_

_“Mar’alith,” this boy wasted no time. His voice was curt, just like his dark blue hair. His skin was deeper than the others, and he quickly grabbed Thisalee and pulled her away._

_“Aww but I wasn’t done--”_   
  


_“You gotta’ let the others introduce themselves too, Thiss,” he grumbled, and the next girl who approached Amita had bright purple skin, and teal green hair. She also came forward to grasp Amita’s hands, and the young troll realized she recognized this girl too._

_“Ysiel Windsinger,” she said, her voice like a soft breeze. Her eyes were closed, brows furrowed in concentration, and Amita felt as though something had landed on her head. Ysiel’s eyes fluttered open, and a small smile pulled at her lips._

_“Show off!!” Lathorius called, before immediately yelping in pain when his sister smacked him on the head._

_Reaching up, Amita’s fingers brushed against the soft petals of flowers. She stared at Ysiel in wonder, and Ysiel gave her a short curtsy._

_“Naralex said you looked upset, so… maybe the flowers can cheer you up a little?”_

_“Ah…” Amita flushed, twisting both hands in her skirt, and feeling inadequate for not being able to return the favor. She gave Ysiel a grateful smile regardless, “tank you.”_

_Ysiel curtsied again, and as she walked over to Malfurion, another boy with white hair - his was long, though, down to his knees, and his skin was a deeper shade of the pale blue she kept seeing._

_“Rabine Saturna,” his voice was soft like Ysiel’s. Amita gave him a nod, and he hurried over to Malfurion._

_“That is Fandral Staghelm,” Naralex informed her, pointing at the other man. Amita was certain that he looked angry no matter the situation, and as Fandral fixed her with yet another glare, Amita glared right back._

_“And Elerethe Renferal. They’re two other druid teachers.”_

_Elerethe dipped her head in greeting, while Fandral merely scoffed._

_“Well! Now that you all know each other, let’s go ahead and have an impromptu lesson, shall we?” Malfurion laughed at the groans that rose up from the children around him, “nothing complex I promise! Let’s all practice making flowers bloom in our hands?”_

_“But Ysiel can already do that!” came the complaints. The girl in question wrung her hands together, and Amita shuffled over to her. She was amused to note that she was taller than most of them - save for Mar’alith - and she grasped one of Ysiel’s hands._

_“Will you be showin’ me? Since you be knowin’,” she asked. Ysiel seemed unsure, and Amita tugged her over to Malfurion. Shan’do had clearly intended for this to be the next lesson, because he had books of flowers for all the young druids present. Ysiel wasted no time in pointing out to Amita her favorite flowers, and quickly showed Amita the ones she had made bloom around Amita’s crown: little bluebells, and some daisies._

_Amita chose to focus on something equally as small, even if she wanted to go with something larger. Malfurion instructed the group to imagine the flower of choice in their minds, and to cup their hands together, one under the other. Amita poured her focus into making baby’s breath. It was a small white flower, and while she was more interested in trying to create a rose, baby’s breath felt like a safer place to start._

_Sparks of magic speckled Amita’s hands. The green dots formed into circular shapes, and then grew and stretched into swirls. Her hands began to shake with the effort._

_Her magic fizzled out with a flash, and Amita huffed. She lowered her hands, and looked at her druid mates. Lathorius was catching on rather quickly, while Lilliandra struggled. Thisalee was busy plucking at the grass until Fandral crouched down and jerked her hands up into the cupped position - Amita’s ears pinned back at his aggression. Elerethe was helping Rabine, and Mar’alith had formed the outline of a flower in his hands before it fizzled out. He groaned in frustration. Clintar too nearly had a flower before it fizzled out, and he grumbled along with Mar’alith._

_Ysiel, it seemed, was having no trouble. A large water lily rested in her hands, and Malfurion gave her a pat on the head, praising her efforts._

_Amita returned to her attempts. She focused on the feeling of her magic coursing through her veins instead of trying to force the flowers to appear through force of will._

_“Focus a lil’ more, Amita.”_

_Amita tilted her head, ears flicking; Ysiel’s hands were soft beneath hers. She could sense that Malfurion was nearby, but was intent on keeping her eyes closed. Ysiel fell quiet. Amita concentrated._

_She didn’t open her eyes until Ysiel started making sounds of excitement, and she felt the brush of petals in her palm._

_A bundle of baby’s breath rested in Amita’s palm. She bounced in excitement, looking up at Ysiel, who looked just as excited as her._

_“You did it!!”_

_“I did it!”_

_“Good work, Amita. Keep practising until you have to go,” Malfurion’s hand rested gently on Amita’s head. She beamed up at him._

_“Okay, shan’do.”_

_She practised until she successfully filled her hand with so much baby’s breath that the small flowers were tumbling out of her palms. Thisalee was still struggling, and Fandral was losing his patience with her, and so Amita jumped to her feet and threw all of her flowers over his head._

_Thisalee, naturally, broke into peals of laughter, while Fandral fixed Amita with the most unamused, angry frown he could manage. She thought he looked funny, and stuck her tongue out at him._

_“Amita!” Naralex exclaimed. Amita could hear the laughter on his voice, “don’t-- don’t be so rude to Fandral!”_

_“I wouldn’ hafta’ be if he didn’ be so_ **_mean_ ** _!” she hissed, wrinkling her nose at Fandral. He opened his mouth to speak, decided against it, and turned his attention back to Thisalee._

_“_ **_Perhaps_ ** _you should choose to make a flower that’s simpler, like your druid mate has done,” he grumbled, plucking one of the many baby’s breath from his hair and resting it in Thisalee’s palm, “I understand you are eager to prove yourself, but you would be better off starting small.”_

_Pleased with the change, Amita pranced over to Ysiel._

_“You be holdin’ still!” she told the other girl, and similarly to how Ysiel had held her hands about Amita’s head earlier, Amita did the same to her._

_It took more of her concentration, but Amita was able to make a crown of baby’s breath bloom about Ysiel’s head._

When Amita awoke from the Dream, she could still feel the crown of daisies and bluebells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nieh'don / Fey'jun / An'jen belong to Druidickats.  
> Luxanai belongs to Tricksterkat.
> 
> All the other characters that show up in this chapter (barring Deonte, who is obviously my OC since he's Amita's father, and Alba'vida who is mentioned, who is also my OC) are NPCs that you can find in game!!


	3. Coup de Foudre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A sudden unforeseen event, in particular an instance of love at first sight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An'jen belongs to Druidickats, and Luxanai belongs to Tricksterkat! Both good friends of mine <3 Jhordis is another OC of mine! Annnd I am sorry this chapter came so late ; o ; there were some edits I had to make...
> 
> Vol'jin and Zalazane's friendship gives me liiiiiiiiife

The sea breeze was pleasant.

Magic twirled across the sands, draping itself over the young troll’s form. His ears flicked when the breeze tickled them.

Soft giggling reached him, and immediately Vol was focused on his surroundings, a smile pulling incessantly at his lips. He counted in his head.

_ ‘One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three--’ _

Right as he felt water lick at his spine, the boy somersaulted backwards, delivering a solid kick to the chest of his assailant. Then, Vol pushed himself up on his hands, and started running along the beach. Sand kicked up with every push up his hands against the fine grains. There was something magical about how it was firm and soft all at once under his palms.

A gust of wind sent him spilling onto the sand. Laughter escaped him even as he was winded by the fall.

“You  _ rascal _ !” Zalazane shrieked, standing over Vol once the red-haired boy had rolled himself onto his back. He was  _ covered _ in sand - but Zalazane was covered with water, red blossoming between his eyes.

“ _ That’s  _ what you get for tryinG to pour water on me! And I don’t even know what that means, Zal,” Vol mused, a stupid grin spreading across his face, “you gotta’ stop using such big words all the time!”

Zalazane scowled, “that’s not even  _ close _ to being a big word,” he snapped, “and maybe you should pay more attention in your studies! Then you might know what I’m talking about half’o the time--!!”

The young witch doctor scuffed at the sand when Vol rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, son of Sen’jin!”

Vol lurched to his feet and grabbed Zalazane around the waist. He tackled his friend to the ground, where they grappled for nearly a minute. Vol won, in the end, after getting Zalazane into a leglock. Zalazane flailed his arms.

“I yield, I yield!!”

Vol laughed, releasing his friend’s foot, “you know you’re never gonna’ beat me in a physical fight, Zal.”

Zalazane pouted while Vol got to his feet. He held his hand out to his friend; Zalazane accepted the offer, and allowed the red haired boy to pull him up.

“Why do you always act like you aren’t smart, Vol?” he asked unexpectedly. Vol blinked at him, then looked off to the side. Shame crept up his throat. He did what he could to swallow it.

“Cuz being the son of the chieftain is stressful enough. Sometimes, I wanna’ be dumb, Zal. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Zalazane sighed, an apologetic smile crossing his lips. He patted Vol on the arm, “I understand. You wanna’ be a kid too, yeah? Lots of expectations on your shoulders.”

“Yeah,” Vol grinned, jostling Zalazane with his shoulder, “that’s what I have you for. The only friend of mine who let’s me be dumb.”

This time, Zalazane was the one who rolled his eyes. For a while, the two fell into silence, simply enjoying the gentle breeze. Zalazane began to walk back to the village center after appraising Vol. In turn, Vol shifted his eyes to the jungles.

Again, he felt that curious gaze.

_ ‘I wonder if it belongs to  _ **_her’_ ** , he thought, squinting at the tangle of roots and brush, ‘ _ I wonder if she heard that thunder too _ .’

Vol had never been able to explain it.

Never once had it crossed his mind that there could be  _ other _ trolls living in the vast island jungle.

He was hardly five years old the first time he remembered seeing her. The thunder had clapped seconds after they locked eyes, and  _ then _ there had been lightning. As far as Vol knew, lightning always preceded thunder.

Master Gadrin had grabbed Vol roughly by the arm and whisked him away to safety, while the little girl he had seen was swept into the jungle by a herd of raptors. He’d pushed her to the back of his mind incidentally, his boyish mind preoccupied with other things, like hunting frogs.

The second time he saw her was when An’jen had gone wild chasing after an elusive cobra. Vol had looked up into the branches of the tree the cobra had “disappeared” at and seen shining eyes looking down at them. She’d been so hasty to get away when he had spotted her, and Vol would be a liar if he claimed that his ability to locate her filled him with perhaps  _ too _ much pride.

There hadn’t been any thunder that time, though, and soon enough An’jen’s chaako was herding all the kids back to the village.

_ ‘She was so acrobatic,’ _ he recalled, a smile creeping over his lips. His feet led him toward the jungle, ‘ _ jumped from one tree to another. Like she’d been doing that since she was a baby.’ _

The third time he had seen her, he realized that she  _ was _ , in fact, the cobra that An’jen so desperately wanted to tame.

It hadn’t crossed his mind initially. Vol had been groggy from being knocked out by the murlocs. He’d never known a snake to have such a gentle grip, nor for it to be so large.

_ ‘And when I muttered about Zal, I just put my hand on her face _ ,’ he had made it to the treeline now, and was peering around the bushes, ‘ _ she was just staring at me _ .’

And then, he had heard the thunder again. It had startled him to be more alert, and  _ something _ had to have startled her down the beach. When he saw her next, Kunan’ji was refusing to let her go to a raptor named Jashik. She’d been in the form of a troll then. Vol wasn’t dumb. He could make the connection. It helped that her face was covered in blood, just like the cobra’s had been.

A sigh left him. Vol was about to turn away from the jungle when something flicked over his hand.

He snapped his head to the right--

And there she was, gazing at him with mischievous, brilliant green eyes, like emeralds; black scales like the night sky, that shimmered in the sunlight when it caught her form. Her tongue flicked over the back of his hand again.

In the distance, Vol could hear the distinct rumble of thunder - but there was not a cloud to be seen in the sky.

“... it’s you,” Vol found himself whispering, reaching out tentatively toward her. She lowered her head ever so much, letting him set his hand on the top of her head. He felt giddy. His heart started pounding and he wondered if maybe,  _ just maybe _ , she would follow him back to the village. He was soon cupping her serpentine head in his hands, struggling to keep his breathing even in his excitement--

“VOL BY THE LOA!”

And just like that, she was gone.

Vol scowled. He looked over his shoulder at Zalazane, scowl deepening. The other boy gave him a befuddled look, eyes shifting from side to side.

“... what’re you lookin’ at me like that for?”

Vol turned to face him fully, taking a step forward. Zalazane took a step back.

“Vol?”

He sprinted, eyes intent on Zalazane like the other boy was his prey, and he was a predator. With a shriek, Zalazane whirled around and raced toward the village. He sent a billowing cloud of sand at Vol to discourage him.

Sen’jin’s son once again tackled Zalazane to the soft sand,  _ right _ before they reached the village center.

Amita shifted out of her stealth after a moment, watching the two go.

She’d heard thunder rumble again, before he had muttered, before he had cupped her face in his hands.

_ ‘I wonder if he heard it too _ .’

* * *

Little over a week had passed when Vol found snake tracks on the beach. Rokhan sighed. He stood at Vol’s side, and the boy looked up at him with a pout.

“I can track her!”

“Vol…”

“I’m gonna’ do it.”

Rokhan muttered under his breath. Vol sifted his hand through the tracks before squinting up at the sky. Fluffy white clouds rolled by, leaving the sand cooler than it would be on a sunnier day. The tracks were neither hot nor cold, so he couldn’t quite tell if the snake had recently passed by or if the indentations were a day old.

Regardless, he followed the track. It led him further down the beach, and Vol hesitated in his search only when he realized Rokhan was not at his side. Nervously the boy looked over his shoulder, eyes seeking the shadow hunter.

Rokhan tilted his head to the side. He was a few paces ahead of where he’d been standing.

“Rokhan…?”

“She spooks easy,” the man finally said, pointing with his eyes past Vol, “I nearly caught her once myself when she slithered into the village, during the celebration.”

Vol was only half paying attention.

The moment Rokhan had looked past him, he’d fixed his own gaze into the distance. There, down by the water, was the girl. Making out all of the details was difficult from this far away, but she was obviously collecting something. Every now and then she would crouch, reach out, inspect something, and stick it in a bag of sorts, or drop it back in the water.

Vol approached slowly. A second glance over his shoulder let him know that Rokhan was following him, albeit at a pace closer to that of a tortoise.

At one point, Vol noticed the tracks in the sand changed from one solid line to two separate footprints.

The girl perked up.

Vol froze.

“ _ E’chuta,” _ he rasped under his breath. He wasn’t close enough that he would be able to grab her.

Curiosity dominated her features, but her eyes were wide. Fear, perhaps? Vol wasn't sure; Rokhan would know, but the girl before Vol took a rigid step back. Vol stiffened.

When she bolted, so did he.

Amita had not expected this to happen. She could practically  _ feel _ him catching up to her, and her panic nested uncomfortably in her chest. Her eyes were focused on an outcropping of rocks. If she could just make it to them. They were close to the jungles, and she knew the jungles.

This boy might be able to track her on the beach but tracking her amongst the bushes and the trees would be no simple task.

She suddenly shifted her direction down the beach, risking a glance over her shoulder.

Loa, she had to giggle. He must have lunged for her, because he was getting up from the sand, shaking his head of the fine grains.

Amita sought refuge on one side of the rocks to catch her breath. He was on the opposite side from her too soon, but more winded than she was.

_ ‘I could use that to my advantage.’ _

He was also covered in sand, molten eyes seeming to glow. Amita inhaled deeply.

“You,” he beat her to the first words, “you’re the cobra.”

Amita’s eyes flicked past him. Another troll that she recognized was steadily making his way over; not too fast, not too slow. It was like every step he took was with a purpose, and he was keeping his distance only to allow this little conversation to take place.

Her eyes went back to the boy across from her, “yeah.”

“How do you do that?”

For a brief moment, Amita considered humoring him - but she didn’t want to say anything about the Emerald Dream, or her teacher Naralex, and she especially didn’t want to make any mention of Malfurion Stormrage.

With a quiet yelp Amita threw herself back; she stumbled over loose sand, of course, and fell onto her rump.

Loa, he’d almost had her!

His hand closed on open air, his expression in a pout; Amita had  _ barely _ caught his movement in her peripheral vision. And now, Amita’s face grew hot at the realization that he’d asked the question in order to distract her from his actions.

Of course he was standing over her within seconds. Amita twisted her body so she could deliver a sharp kick to his shin. His eyes went wide as he toppled over, and Amita scrambled to her feet, sprinting to the trees.

She was forced back to the rocks when the boy suddenly appeared next to her, red blossoming over the tips of his ears.

“Where’d you learn  _ that? _ ” he sounded dumbfounded as he braced his arms against the rocks. Amita puffed out her chest.

“I learned from observation~” she gave him the slyest look she could manage, “I’m always watchin’, sunshine~”

His face reddened when she called him sunshine, and Amita couldn’t help laughing.

“What’re you laughing at eh?!”

“You look so  _ cute _ ,” she teased, “with your cheeks all red!”

Amita was certain he was going to snarl and lunge over the rocks at her. To her surprise, he kept his cool, scowling at her instead.

This was easier than she could have ever imagined. Speaking to him was like a dream come true. 

“I did  _ not _ spend all this time hunting you down to have you call me  _ cute _ ,” he finally hissed. Amita grinned toothily at him, flicking her tongue like she would as a cobra.

Then, a chill ran down Amita’s spine. The older troll was getting too close for comfort, but she didn’t want to risk looking over her shoulder while Sunshine was so determined to catch her.

“You know, I wonder if you would be able to catch me.”

The boy perked up, his ears upright before pinning back somewhat.

“Of course I can,” he stated firmly, as if offended by the very suggestion that he wouldn’t be able to. Amita smiled.

“Okay, then if you catch me--”

“You’ll come to the village with me.”

Her smile disappeared, ‘ _ what?’ _

“If I catch you,” he decided to reiterate, “then you’ll come stay with the Darkspear.”

Amita stared at him. She couldn’t find it in her to believe his words.

“That is  _ if _ you catch me, sunshine,” she found herself saying rigidly. As the thought of truly joining the Darkspear had filled her with fear before, it filled her with fear once again. She wasn’t prepared for the possibility of it becoming a reality.

“I  _ will _ .”

“That so?” she lowered her head. He tensed.

Amita bolted into the jungle. To the best of his ability, he followed, but Amita was confident. She knew these trees, she knew these roots, she knew these bushes.

With ease she shifted into a cobra, shimmered into stealth, and slithered up a tree. Vines had grown, strong, and firm up the trunk, allowing her a path to travel on.

Her hunter didn’t get too far.

The older troll had grabbed him by the arm - by Gonk, had he really been  _ that _ close? - and pulled him back. She recalled his name was Rokhan, the one who had nearly caught her before.

“Rokhan, I--!”

“Not today,” Rokhan replied, his voice low. Amita shifted out of her cobra form, straining her ears to try and hear what was being said.

  
Their voices, unfortunately, were lost to her.

Amita kept her eyes on them until they disappeared out of her sight. Only then did she sidle her way back down to the jungle floor. She went straight back to the cave, clutching her bag of shells to her side.

Jashik was waiting for her. His bright eyes narrowed at her, and Amita’s ears pinned back.

“I told you I would be fine on my own…” she muttered, kicking at the leaves. He chuffed at her, and Amita sighed, “okay fine, I suppose I took longer than I  _ said _ I would - but I got distracted!”

Jashik stamped his foot, chattering at her before snapping his jaws in the air. Amita frowned, opting to hug herself, “I  _ know _ you were about to come lookin’ for me. But… that boy. He’s trackin’ me now.”

Of course, Jashik let out a low whine at this news. Amita shook her head at the large beast, stroking his nose when he lowered his head, “don’t you worry. He won’t catch me… he won’t.”

Loa, she would have never thought she’d get so distressed over the prospect.

“Gotta’... gotta’ write to chaako,” she exhaled shakily, and walked swiftly into the cave. She set her bag of shells down before she collected all her writing supplies.

Once prepared, Amita sat at a smooth, angled rock. She’d found it on one of her adventures and managed to convince Jashik to let her tie it to his back to carry it to the cave.

It was the perfect thing for her to write on.

Taking a deeth breath, Amita began:

> _ Chaako. _

> _ Today I met a boy - the boy I keep telling you about. I think he’s trying to track me down. He said that when he catches me, he’s going to bring me to the village. _

Amita paused, A blot of ink began to form where she kept her pen pressed to the parchment.

> _ If he does… will I get to meet you? _

The thought was enticing. Amita shook her head, signing her name at the bottom - she’d been practicing a signature, and frowned. It still looked sloppy in her eyes.

Deonte had told her she shouldn’t be bothered by it. According to him, she already wrote considerably better than most of the eleven year olds he knew, but Amita was certain that reason was due to the fact that she had a significant amount of free time compared to what they did, between their own studies, and special training sessions.

And whatever else activities they did around the tribe to help out.

To distract herself from her thoughts, Amita crossed her legs, draped her arms over them, and meditated.

_ She was dropped in the Emerald Dream almost immediately. _

_ “You’re rather early, young one.” _

_ Malfurion’s voice made her yelp. He stared at her with wide eyes when she spun around to face him. _

_ “I--!! I don’ be intendin’ ta stay… I jus’ needed ta be um… tinkin’ ‘bout sometin’ else.” _

_ The night elf hummed, and sat on the ground. He patted the spot in front of him, offering Amita a gentle smile. If she were honest, it was mostly hidden by his growing beard. _

_ Regardless, she moved to sit in front of the Malfurion. _

_ “What troubles you, Amita?” _

_ “I be meetin’ a boy,” she sighed, then scowled up at Malfurion, “an’ it don’ be wat you might be tinkin’!!! I be seein’ him befah… bu’, I dunno. I be scared.” _

_ “Why are you scared?” Malfurion’s voice was soft. Amita whined. _

_ “He be trackin’ me?” she huffed, “he be sayin’ dat when he be catchin’ me, he’s gonna’ be takin’ me to de village.” _

_ “Is that such a bad thing?” _

_ “I dunno… I would be able ta be meetin’ my chaako! Bu’...” _

_ “But?” he encouraged, reaching toward her. After some gentle prodding, Amita turned around, and Malfurion began to braid her hair into one of the styles she’d seen the elven women with - some of her druid mates had similar hairstyles, particularly Ysiel. _

_ “I… I don’ be like dem,” she admitted. Malfurion stuck small blooms of flowers through the braids, and a few long strands of grass. _

_ “What makes you so certain you aren’t?” _

_ Amita made a sound of childish frustration, and Malfurion’s gentle laugh carried through the open space, “I understand that these are a lot of questions - but it’s important for you to find the answers.” _

_ “Why?” she found herself asking, and Malfurion lowered his hands to her shoulders. He easily lifted her to her feet and around to face him. _

_ “So that you can fight your fears.” _

_ Amita stared at her feet. _

_ “I don’ be knowin’ how ta be ‘round othahs,” she finally said in reply to his last question. He actually snorted. _

_ “While that might be a fair point, I would argue that you are more than capable of knowing ‘how to be around others’. And, even if that  _ **_was_ ** _ the case, that doesn’t mean you don’t belong with them.” _

_ “Muuka was nevah wit’ dem…” she informed him, looking away as if in shame, “if muuka nevah belonged wit’ dem, why would it be any diffahrent fah me?” _

_ Malfurion’s brows furrowed in thought. _

_ “Well… you aren’t your mother now, are you?” _

_ Amita shook her head. Malfurion smiled, “then things could be much different for you, couldn’t they?” _

_ She nodded her head, as if in defeat. Malfurion tilted her chin up with a bent finger, concern creasing his brows, “as I mentioned, you know how to be around others. You do quite well interacting with Naralex and I! Furthermore, you get along with all of your druid mates incredibly well, and despite the differences you share, your druid mates adore you, as you adore them. Don’t belittle yourself so, Amita.” _

_ Her lips set in a pout. She could feel a stinging at her eyes. _

_ “I… I wanna’ be wit’ dem,” she sniffled, rubbing at her eyes with one hand, “bu’... bu’ I don’ tink I be ready…” _

_ Malfurion drew Amita into a warm hug. She rested her head against his shoulder, hiccuping on unshed tears. _

_ “Would you like to start your lessons early?” the night elf asked softly, and Amita nodded her head. Malfurion smiled. _

_ “Alright.” _

_ He pulled a small packet out of his sleeve. Seeds were inside, and Malfurion dug into the dirt before him to place the seeds in the hole. Amita swept her palm over it to cover the seeds. _

_ “Now, I want you to place your hands over the seeds, like this,” he placed his hands down, one on top of the other, “and slowly funnel your druidic magic into the seeds. When you feel the first leaves beginning to blossom, carefully lift your hands up - just like when you were making those flowers bloom from nothing.” _

_ Amita did as she was instructed, brows furrowed in concentration. Magic raced down her arms into the ground. _

_ “That is too quick. With more control, Amita.” _

_ She huffed, closing her eyes this time. She focused on the sensation of the magic trickling down her arms, across her palms, and out, into the soil, like rain. Sweat began to collect on her forehead from the amount of effort it took for her to control the flow of magic. _

_ It was  _ **_exactly_ ** _ her struggle with the flowers the first time she’d tried to make them. She could make the flowers bloom with ease now, moving on to making things like peonies and sunflowers, but growing a plant from a seed was somehow more difficult. _

_ “Good. Hold your focus. Remember to breathe.” _

_ By the time Amita felt the first brush of a leaf against her palm, her hands had started shaking, and as Malfurion had instructed, she began to lift her hands. _

_ His touch was gentle against her forearm, “stop there. Take a look.” _

_ Amita opened her eyes as she cautiously opened up her hands. It was a viney plant, swirling together in some spots and coiling together in others. She could just make out what looked to be buds. Her eyes sought Malfurion’s face, and she smiled when she found that his expression was pleased. _

_ “This magic,” he began after admiring her work for a moment, “comes naturally to you. One of your parents - perhaps the father you cannot seem to find - is incredibly gifted. He must have passed his magic on to you.” _

_ Amita bit her lip. She nodded, keeping her gaze on the plant before her now. _

_ “... I couldn’ be makin’ it bloom…” _

_ “Yet.” _

_ She looked up at him, confused, and Malfurion reiterated, “you couldn’t make it bloom  _ **_yet_ ** _ \- but you will. Just like how you make all those roses, baby’s breath, peonies, and countless other flowers bloom.” _

_ “You be tinkin’ so?” _

_ Malfurion laughed, setting his hand on Amita’s head. She could hear her boisterous druid mates in the background as they began to come toward the clearing. _

_ “I know so.” _

* * *

Several days had passed since her encounter with Sunshine. While stalking through the bushes near the village in her cobra form on a particularly sunny day, Amita came across a familiar child.

Ani was muttering to herself, picking at the leaves on a tree.

“I’m not  _ that _ weird,” she was saying, her fiery hair dishevelled, “maybe I  _ look _ weird, bu’ I’m no--aa _ aaaAAH! _ ”

Amita released a broken hiss as Ani tumbled over onto the sand and leaves. Ani stared at her from her spot on the forest floor - then she scrambled to her feet.

“Snakey!”

Amita bobbed her head as if to nod. Luxanai’s eyes lit up - though her ear flicked and she looked over her shoulder at the beach.

“I wish I was like you, snakey,” the girl muttered, going back to picking leaves off the tree. Amita cautiously slithered to sit next to her, then lowered her head all the way to the ground. It wasn’t just Sunshine and An’jen she could see on the beach. They were with a large group of children, playing some game with a strange looking object. It was round, and they were kicking it back and forth.

Amita prodded Luxanai with her tail, and when Ani looked at her, Amita looked to the playing children, and then back to Ani. The girl sighed.

“I’m too weird.”

Amita could only hiss in confusion. Luxanai laughed, but even Amita could tell there was pain in the sound, “I’m not surprised, y’know? I’ve always been different… I think.”

Shaking her head, Amita made to move - but there was a yell, and the ball bounced close. Luxanai froze. Amita pressed herself against the soft ground as best she could, heart pounding.

For a moment, the world was still. None of the children drew closer, and Luxanai stared at the object just a foot away.

In the end, Sunshine himself decided to approach. His molten eyes flicked to Amita as he stooped to scoop up the ball.

“Hey-- Luxanai, right?” he shifted his gaze to the girl. Amita still refused to take any semblance of a breath.

“U-uh!! Yeah…” and Ani fidgeted with the bottom of her frayed skirt. Sunshine offered her a smile, and then, his hand.

“Come play with us.”

Luxanai’s eyes went  _ wide _ . She danced a little in place, looked at Amita with absolute joy, and grabbed Sunshine’s hand in what Amita could only assume was a vice grip. He visibly winced - regardless, he held onto his smile.

“Bye snakey!” Luxanai whispered excitedly under her breath, then hurried off with the boy to join the other children.

Amita opened her mouth wide in a gasp, dropped into her stealth, and quickly slithered away.

The next day found Amita once again being chased down the beach by her sun. She wove her way across the sand, smacking at his feet with her tail when he managed to get in front of her.

With a lurch, Amita was able to twist and wind up a rock.

Unfortunately, the boy grabbed onto her tail.

She jerked her head around and smacked him in the face - mouth closed, of course.

“Ow!” he exclaimed, releasing her tail in favor of clutching his face. Amita used her borrowed time to shift back into a troll and scramble up the rock.

“You’re  _ persistent!! _ ” she hissed, standing on the top of the rock. He scowled up at her - then worry overtook his features.

“Hey, um, maybe you shouldn’t just…  _ stand _ up there on the rock.”

“You just want me to come down so you can grab me!!”

“N-no -- you’re making a target of yourself just-- just come down.”

She was suspicious of his concern.

He unwillingly took several steps back, “please?”

Cautiously Amita slid down. The rock was rough, and parts of it scraped her skin.

“You know Luxanai,” he stated once her feet were securely on the sand.

“Um, I, um, I guess you could say that,” she muttered, gripping her raptor pendant in her hand. His molten eyes honed in on the action, and narrowed. He pointed to the partially hidden object.

“Where’d you get that?”

“I found it.”

“That doesn’t look like something you’d just  _ find _ in the jungle,” he grumbled, mostly to himself. Amita frowned, gripping her pendant more tightly.

“I’m good at finding things,” she emphasized, hoping that was a more believable lie. Sunshine, naturally, did not look convinced.

“Between the two of us, I think  _ I’m  _ better at finding things.”

“Oh yeah?’

“I keep finding  _ you _ , don’t I?”

Amita flushed, and  _ almost _ informed him that he could never quite catch her. She was glad she didn’t say that. He would have lurched forward, and grabbing her by the wrist as she scrambled to make a hasty getaway would have been easy.

_ ‘He’s probably stronger than me anyway,’ _ she thought bitterly, shifting her hand from rubbing her pendant to twisting her hair.

“But you know Luxanai,” he brought the conversation back to where it had started, “she called you snakey.”

Amita pouted, “you heard that huh…”

“I have good hearing,” he said proudly, gesturing to his ears, “she’s pretty good at keeping secrets though… she won’t tell me anything about you.”

“She only knows me as a cobra, silly sunshine,” Amita informed him. His ears perked up in surprise, and Amita shuffled away from the rock, “you’re one of the only ones who knows that me ‘n’ the cobra are one and the same.”

His expression lit up; perhaps there was something that made him feel special to be one of the only ones who knew she was the cobra that lurked around the village so often.

Amita didn’t let him bask in his giddiness for long. She swiftly shifted back into a cobra, flung a cloud of sand at him with her tail, and took off down the beach, belly low to the ground. She heard him sputter in frustration and choke on the sand.

Once she was safely hidden amongst the foliage, Amita peeked out. He was rubbing at his eyes, still coughing, and looking very, very defeated.

When Rokhan appeared, she made a speedy getaway. She knew without a doubt that Rokhan would be able to catch her - after all, he’d caught her once before. She’d made sure to commit his appearance to memory, and steered clear of him as often as she could.

_ ‘I doubt he’ll let me escape him a second time,’ _ she shifted out of her cobra from and shook the sand out of her hair. She could use a bath. Jashik loomed out of the cave, his slitted eyes narrowed at her.

“I need a bath,” she announced to him, grabbing one of the pretty bars of soap her chaako had included in one of his gift crates, “you coming?”

He chuffed at her, and dutifully followed Amita to the pool of fresh water not far from her cave.

* * *

“Are you  _ trying _ to get into trouble, Vol?”

“Look,” Vol dropped down from the tree, fixing Zalazane with a stern gaze, “if you’re so concerned,  _ you _ can go back to the village.”

Zalazane scowled, “you know I’m always down to get in a lil’ trouble, Vol, but not  _ this _ kinda’ trouble. The guards and the shadow hunters and the  _ witch doctors _ told us to stay out of the jungles. Nagas are making moves, Vol. That’s trouble.”

“I won’t go far,” Vol insisted, gripping Zalazane’s bicep, “don’t worry ‘bout me.”

“I worry about you.”

Vol shifted his gaze to the ground, releasing Zalazane’s arm. The young witch doctor sighed.

“You gotta’ learn to listen, Vol. You know I will always have your back - we’re friends! We do dumb things.”

“We do,” Vol agreed, giving Zalazane a stupid grin. Zalazane returned it, though it quickly faded. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“You won’t listen to me, will you?”

“I… have to try. She’s in this area. Luxanai knows her name but she won’t tell me. She’s all suspicious.”

Zalazane scowled, “fine. Go. I’ll wait here. If anything goes wrong, scream. I’ll come to you.”

“Thanks, Zal. You can… give me an hour.”

“And I’m already counting.”

Vol ducked his head, gripped the hilt of his dagger tightly, and hurried into the jungles. His raptor, Fahey, would come at a whistle if Vol needed him. Part of him hoped that having the time pressure would give him the focus he needed to track--

His foot stepped into an indentation. He crouched, sifting his fingers through the dirt like Rokhan had taught him. Warm. Had a light, scale-like pattern inscribed into it. He spent a solid three seconds wondering how a snake could leave a  _ warm _ path - and thankfully, the path itself was too small to be one that a naga would have left.

Excitement overruled logic. Moonlight had passed through here.

Vol rubbed some soil between his thumb and forefinger, eyes scanning the bushes. After a moment, he took the risk.

He closed his eyes, putting his focus into imagining a web of magic. It was dark, like the shadows, and latched onto roots and branches and leaves. Vol waited. One of his hands closed over a small rock.

There, to the right, at the base of a large tree. Something was there, still and unnoticeable to the naked eye. Vol opened his eyes and whipped the rock at the tree. A startled hiss brought a smirk to his lips, and he dashed after the parting leaves until they finally gave way to black scales.

_ ‘So Moonlight’s stealth isn’t something she can keep up _ ,’ Vol mused. He kept his eyes trained on her as best he could. She wove easily between roots and bushes, hardly making a sound. He was  _ positive _ that if she could, she would be hissing incessantly at him.

Vol was unsure of how long he remained hot on her tail, but no matter what he did, she always stayed just out of his reach.

And then, she disappeared. He heard a splash, gasped, and instinctively shoved the blade of his dagger into a crevice. His body slammed against hard rock; he winced. The dark rocks were slippery with water, and Vol cursed under his breath. It was about a ten foot drop into a pool of water below, and he dangled precariously above.

“Are you crazy!?” he snapped when his eyes landed on the form of the girl. She was scrabbling at the rocks and soil that made up the basin for the pool, in her troll form. As Vol attempted to keep tabs on her while figuring out the safest way to get down, she got out of the water. Her long, uneven hair was a soaking mess that clung to her arms and parts of her legs.

And to his dismay - even if it meant he could catch her now - she slipped and landed face first on the ground in her haste to get away from him.

From where he was now, he could slip into the water and crawl out. Climbing down the rocks had been easier than he’d first thought, and thankfully, he’d remembered to put his dagger in his mouth when he started climbing down instead of leaving it jammed near the top of the drop.

Right after he got out of the water, his prey lurched to her feet. His heart rate skyrocketed, and he barely managed to keep his balance himself.

“I-I’m not _crazy!_ _You’re_ crazy, sunshine!”

Vol scowled at her back, and she swung around a tree. He went after her.

So she went to another side, and when he followed, she went to the other. He peered around the trunk, just enough so she could see the grin spreading over his lips.

“Tired, moonlight?”

She blushed fiercely. It disarmed the glare she gave him.

“What~? It’s not like we know each other’s names,” he pointed out between breaths, “that, and if you insist on calling me sunshine…”

“F-fine!” she was still breathing heavily, “you want my name?”

Vol nodded.

“Then I want yours.”

“That sounds fair to me,” he agreed, and tried to shuffle closer. She noticed, scowled, and shuffled away. Vol frowned.

“I don’t think I said that catchin’ me would be easy, sunshine.”

“You-- well… you didn’t…”

“Mm-hm.”

Vol couldn't take his eyes off her, as much as he wanted to look away. He was worried she’d take off again, without giving him her name.

“On three then?”

“If that makes you comfortable, sunshine.”

“It more than makes me comfortable, moonlight,” he hissed; she giggled.

So he counted, and she waited, and when he said “three”-

“Vol.”

“Amita.”

Silence fell between them. He mulled over her name, saying it to himself. Her lips moved as though she were doing the same. Vol smiled.

“Amita.”

She looked up at him, emerald eyes curious.

“Nice to meet ya.”

Amita beamed, “nice to meet ya too, Vol - and better luck next time, yeah?”

Before he could blink, she took off, scaling the nearest tree.

He  _ wanted _ to go after her, Loa he did. He wanted to chase her until he caught her and brought her back to the village. She was as elusive as the moonlight he called her by.

But the winds had shifted. The jungles were cold. Vol began his trek back to where he had left Zalazane. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he shakily raised a hand to his lips.

This was no time for him to be chasing after Amita.

His whistle was sharp, and it filled the eerie silence. Vol gripped his dagger tightly. Something was watching him, and it wasn’t a gaze he could recognize: not Sen’jin, not Rokhan, not Zalazane, not even his newly named moon.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Amita couldn’t resist following him.

Since she had awoken, the jungles had been eerily quiet. Jashik had refused to let her go anywhere alone. The large raptor had even refused to let her come hunting with him. If the eeriness hadn’t already gotten to her, then Jashik’s refusal to let her hunt with him set her on edge.

She had gone down to the village earlier, Jashik trailing after her. The trolls had been fine, if more on edge.

And then, she had seen them.

Nagas, crawling all throughout the jungle. Searching for trolls. Leaving death in their wake.

_ ‘I wish Naralex was here,’ _ she thought, stopping in the bushes. Vol had whistled. Amita wished Malfurion were here. Surely, Jashik was close by.

An arrow embedded in the tree near Vol.

He drew his dagger immediately, but didn’t stay put; he took off. Amita released a confused hiss, and chased after him. To her left, she could make out the bright green scales of a naga through the passing trees. If she went faster, she could cut it off.

A yelp reached her ears, along with a cackle, and Amita charged straight toward the naga. It had come to a stop, eyes focused on Vol, lightning crackling around its hand.

Amita spat a furious hiss, hood flared, and sunk her fangs into the naga’s arm. She shook her head violently, intending to rip the limb off. Burning hot lightning raced through her body and in her fright, Amita shifted back into a troll, screaming in pain.

“Amita!”

“Vol - by the Loa--  _ STOP!” _

The other voice, she recognized. Vol sunk his dagger into the naga’s long tail; she shrieked, backhanding the boy with two hands. Though he was dazed, he managed to yank his dagger out of her tail. A bolt of lightning struck the naga next. Amita fought the urge to run away.

_ ‘Focus, focus, focus.’ _

Green magic swirled around her fingertips. Roots began to lock over the naga’s long tail; it brought her attention back to Amita. She lunged for the young druid, and Amita scrambled back-

There was another bolt of lightning. It caused the naga to falter, though she managed to lash out at Amita anyway, claws raking over her leg. Amita bit back a cry of pain, and continued trying to back away on all fours.

“Let’s  _ GO _ !” the voice belonged to that white haired boy, Zal. He grabbed Vol by the bicep and jerked him to his feet, and then a small emerald raptor barreled into the naga’s side. Once again, the naga shrieked; the sound was tinged with fury. She struggled against the roots that Amita had grown around her.

“F-Fahey, c’mon,” Vol tugged the raptor to him. Amita’s roots were beginning to break.

Instead of going after the boys and the raptor, the naga lunged for Amita, every root snapping off her muscular tail. Vol made to thrust his dagger into the naga’s tail again, but he  _ just _ missed.

Amita screamed.

The naga’s cackle was cut off by black jaws closing around her head.

Jashik put his entire body into whipping the naga up into the air, before slamming her against the ground, again and again and again until her limbs were lifelessly snapping back and forth with every motion of the raptor’s head.

Silence came back to the jungle, save for the heavy breathing of the children. The body slumped to the ground, headless. Jashik lowered his mouth and deposited the head on the ground, near the neck. There was quiet.

Then he roared at the boys.

Vol’s raptor attempted to roar back, but Vol clapped his hand down on Fahey’s muzzle.

“Hey--”

Jashik slammed his foot against the ground. Before Amita could stop him, he was chasing the boys away, and before she knew it, he’d circled back for her. Vol hadn’t gone far; he’d bolted around a tree to trick Jashik into thinking he’d left. His hair was impossible for Amita to miss amidst the bright greens and dull browns that surrounded them.

“Hey!”

“Y-you need to-- to hide your light, sunshine,” Amita hardly managed a smile, indicating to his hair. Vol’s expression was distraught as she pulled herself onto Jashik’s back, ignoring the biting pain in her leg, “the nagas are everywhere.”

“If you come with us back to the village you’ll be safe!”

“Thanks, Vol, b-but I feel safer with Jashik.”

“Vol, c’mon, we gotta’ go. I gave you an extra ten minutes, and the other naga would’ve heard this one screamin’!”

Amita had not expected the white-haired boy to return, but she was grateful he had.

“Zal--”

Vol snarled when Zal punched him in the arm, “ _ listen to me! _ For once, would you listen to me!?”

Amita leaned forward to whisper, “Jashik, go.”

With a chuff, Jashik took off. Amita hoped that Vol would be discouraged and go with his friend now, if she was gone.

She hoped Luxanai was safe.

Jashik took the long way back to the cave. He joined with a pack of raptors at one point, and Amita did what she could to tend to her injuries. Since healing Luxanai’s bruise, Amita had gotten a little better at healing. She’d mended a parrot’s broken wing, and a young tiger’s foot after it had been caught in a trap.

The cuts were gone within minutes.

The fear that the naga would find her little cave was overpowering once Amita made it back home. She moved everything she normally kept outside - racks of drying meat, logs that made up the seats around the fireplace, the stones that made up said fireplace’s bed - into the far back of the cave. She slept on all the things her father sent her, apart from the crates, of course. She used those to store her ink pots, parchment paper, some of the blankets and clothes that she often used as coverings for Jashik’s back when she would be gone for an extended period of time, her collection of sea shells - and crab shells, and lobster shells, and turtle shells that weren’t dishes.

Loa she had a  _ lot _ of shells.

For whatever reason, Amita had also started a small rock collection. Only the prettiest rocks on the beach would do, and one of her favorites was a bright orange, smoothe rock. Her next favorite was a brilliant red one, with lines of darker red in it.

She didn’t know where they’d come from, of course, only that she had found them washed up on the beaches when she was bored from hunting down food.

There were still plenty of crates, and while Amita had filled a good portion of them with books and bags and other such items, there were still many left.

Tentatively Amita looked over her shoulder, to the mouth of the cave. It was growing dark. Amita was afraid to even start a fire: what if the naga saw the light, and came running to it? Jashik could only fight off so many, and Amita knew she wouldn’t stand much of a chance.

Stomach churning, Amita cuddled up on her pile of blankets, pillows, and clothes. She shed her clothing for the day, tossing it to the far end of the cave, and pulled on one of the many oversized dresses her father had given to her in crates - after she had wrestled it out of her pile she sat on.

For what little daylight she had left, Amita practiced some of her writing. The area was not as eerily quiet as it had been that morning. There was a gentle breeze rustling the trees, and she could hear seagulls squawking every now and then as they flew overhead.

She took comfort in these sounds, and accidentally doodled some rough birds on her writing pages. She flushed,  _ ‘oops.’ _

An hour more, and it was too dark for her to continue. Jashik fussed at her, and Amita begrudgingly got up to put her parchment neatly into one of the crates. She settled down next to the raptor soon after that, eyes fixated on the mouth of the cave.

Amita struggled to stay asleep. Everytime she dozed off, she found herself jerking awake, eyes wide and staring at the mouth of the cave, afraid that she would see the figure of a naga there. Jashik’s even heartbeat did little to soothe her nerves. She couldn’t even make her way to the Dream, where she knew she would have found some respite.

When she next jerked awake, the sun had risen.

Two hours passed before an unnatural darkness shrouded the sky. Amita had just finished her bath and was walking back to her cave when the rain started.

She sputtered, and began to run, frustrated that of  _ course _ the rain would choose to start  _ after _ she had gotten herself all cleaned up.

Jashik met her at the cave, dragging a tiger corpse. Unfortunately, he had to leave it out in the rain. Amita was grateful she had some dried meat left over from earlier in the week.

As she was getting dressed, the first bolt of lightning struck, Thunder clapped, and--

Was that a naga shriek?

Confused, Amita poked her head out of the cave, pulling her pendant over her neck.

“Oh--  _ hot!! _ ” she exclaimed with a gasp, grabbing the leather straps and pulling the pendant away from her chest. It was  _ steaming _ .

She stared at it with wide eyes. Her pendant had never been this hot before, and as more lightning laced through the trees, the sky was filled with the sounds of shrieks and snarls. More often than not, the sounds of pain were drowned out by the crack of thunder.

Amita was scared, of course. She huddled in the back of her cave for a few minutes, unsure of what to do. She wouldn’t be able to hunt until the rain cleared up, _‘well, I could, but I just had a bath, and I don’t want to get_ **_that_** _dirty if I can avoid it.’_

Instead, she pulled her crate of shells off the stack. She set it down carefully, and after an hour of deliberation, Amita had selected seven shells. She laid them out over a pretty cloth, scrambled to get her drawing papers, and set about sketching the shells.

It wasn’t until after lunch that the storm  _ finally  _ let up. Amita’s pendant had rested against her chest for the entire duration, even though she was worried the stone might burn her with its heat. The pendant brought her enough comfort that she often refused to take it off, and sometimes forgot to take it off when she bathed.

A week dragged past without much incident, and at the beginning of the winter months, Amita once again found herself being pursued by her ever persistent sun.

She barely managed to get around a tree this time to discourage Vol, and once again, she and Vol did their this side of the tree to that side of the tree dance until they settled for glaring at each other for their stubbornness.

“Y’know,” Vol began, panting, “you  _ really _ shouldn’t be running around in the jungle without protection.”

Amita narrowed her eyes at him, “I’m plenty protected. I can turn into a cobra.”

“Yeah, but you’re alone, and being alone in a jungle crawling with naga isn’t that smart!”

“Oh!! You’re one to talk!!” Amita snapped back, pointing at him, “Mr. Also currently running around in the jungle by himself without protection!! Who also can’t turn into a cobra!!”

Vol’s face reddened, and he blurted out, “Rokhan’s with me!”

Amita gasped, looking around herself; in the distance, she heard the telltale belly laugh of Rokhan. He must have been close enough to both see and hear what was going on, but not close enough for  _ her _ to see  _ him. _

Agitated, Amita bristled, “yeah, well, I have Jashik!!”

She jabbed her finger in the direction of a large, short palm tree. Jashik’s legs were barely visible, “right there!!”

“He’s just a raptor!” Vol argued.

“A raptor that saved me, you, ‘n’ Zal from a naga!” she fired back. Vol’s mouth flapped as he tried to deflect her obvious truth. He settled for scowling at her instead, and she puffed out her chest proudly.

Jashik emerged from the palms shortly after that, giving way to a loud groan from Vol. The raptor bore Amita away, and as she took the chance to look over her shoulder, she saw Rokhan patting Vol on the head.

How quickly the older man could move would  _ always _ make Amita feel uneasy.

The year crawled past, and the days Vol chased her were gone too quickly. Most of the time, she lost him to the wilds. It filled her with some measure of pride to know she could get away from him. Some days, he nearly caught her, but she would always slip between his fingers. Sometimes, they talked. Amita avoided saying too much about herself, and likewise, she felt Vol avoided saying too much about himself.

He seemed more interested in getting her to experience it. Their brief conversations always ended with him asking her why she didn’t come to the village with him.

Her answer was always the same:

“Better luck next time, eh, Vol?”

_ ‘I wonder if he’s catchin’ on _ ,’ she thought to herself. She observed the large group of children, doing her best to mimic their movements.

_ ‘If you  _ **_really_ ** _ want to learn how to dance like them, why don’t you take shan’do and Naralex’s advice? Just go be with them _ .’

Amita shook her head, nearly missing out on the fact that the group had just done a spin. An embarrassed flush came to her cheeks, even though she was yet to be discovered.

“One of these days, you’re gonna’ get Vol into big, big trouble.”

She shifted into a cobra and dropped flat on the ground so fast her new companion choked on a laugh.

Amita made an attempt to dart away, but Rokhan had caught her in his hand - and this time, instead of holding her by the neck, he cradled this large cobra to his chest.

“There. Now if you try to get away, you can’t.”

She flailed regardless, hands grabbing at the nearest tree as she shifted out of her cobra form.

“Oops,” Rokhan moved away, tsking, “can’t have that. Let’s go over here.”

“Wh--”

Of course Amita was confused. Instead of taking her to the village, Rokhan took her further into the treeline. He tucked behind a tree before setting Amita on her feet. Then, he gestured around the trunk.

Amita poked her head out, ears flicked up. Two trolls dressed similarly to Rokhan passed by. She flushed as she ducked her head back behind the tree. After pouting at the ground for a moment, Amita looked up at him.

“I… I thought you were gonna’ take me to--”

“The village? And take the little game you have with Vol away? Pff, not a chance!”

“But…” Amita shifted nervously on her feet, combing her fingers through her messy, unkempt hair, “you told me that I’ll get him into big, big trouble…”

Rokhan tapped a finger to his lips, “I did say that! But that doesn’t mean I’m taking you to the village. Vol wants to do that.”

Amita huffed, “well, yeah. Sunshine made  _ that _ clear.”

A chuckle left Rokhan, and he rolled his shoulders, “another patrol will come by in twenty minutes. That class will be over by then - you need to pay more attention to your surroundings, little moon.”

She flushed at the nickname, and Rokhan disappeared.

When the class finished, Amita slunk back into the bushes - but she hung around, watching. Sure enough, another patrol passed by - and this time, another two trolls she recognized: Kuzari and Ku’nanji.

Amita quickly went on her way, as Kuzari’s tiger was looking at the bushes far too intently for her liking.

_ Ysiel became busy with fussing about Amita’s hair, muttering under her breath that the little troll should take better care of it. Amita frowned. _

_ “I can’t be seein’ de back o’ my head!” she harped, trying to look over her shoulder at her friend. Ysiel placed a palm against Amita’s cheek and pushed her head back to face forward. _

_ “Don’t look! I’m trying to fix it…” _

_ Amita huffed, picking at the grass in front of her. She’d been arriving in the Emerald Dream earlier than usual, and Amita found she preferred that; even if it meant she was early for lessons, it gave her the chance to spend more quality time with her druid mates outside of sparring with them. _

_ Ysiel had been cutting Thisalee’s hair when Amita had arrived, and after seeing the absolutely parrot’s nest of a mess that Amita’s hair had been in, Ysiel had immediately moved on to her hair. _

_ Thisalee was still busy prancing around the clearing, her hair in absolute disarray. Amita had to shake her head at the other girl. _

_ “Okay! All done!” _

_ Immediately Amita grasped for the back of her head. Her hair still had the same length, and all the knots were gone. _

_ “I just took off the ends. It’s still really long! And pretty,” Ysiel combed her fingers through Amita’s hair. _

_ “Amita!!” Thisalee came bounding over, “ _ **_you’re_ ** _ pretty!” _

_ The young troll giggled, “tanks, Ti’salee.” _

_ Thisalee gave her a toothy grin and leaned down to grab both of her hands. She jerked Amita to her feet, and succeeded in dragging the other girl to prance around the colorful clearing. Ysiel, of course, chased after them, “Thisalee!! Hey!! I need to finish your hair! Come back here!” _

_ Naturally, Thisalee squealed. She released Amita’s hands and - after shifting into a saber toothed cat - Thisalee sprinted off. Ysiel gave chase in her own cat form. _

_ Amita settled for watching them, crouching on the ground. Clintar soon arrived, crouching next to her. He ended up sitting on his rump after a bit. _

_ “How can you do that for so long?” _

_ “Dunno,” Amita shrugged, glancing over her shoulder at him, “I tink it be sometin’ dat trolls just… do.” _

_ “A troll thing?” Clintar mused, plucking at the grass. _

_ “Ya, a troll ting.” _

_ He hummed. Amita felt his weight against her side soon enough, and she looked down at him. Clintar was content to lean against her. _

_ “Sleepy?” she questioned, patting him on the head. He nodded, and Amita giggled, “I be guessin’ ya don’ wanna’ have lessons t’day eh?” _

_ “Not really…” he mumbled, leaning more heavily against her. Amita plopped down on her rear, and Clintar slipped onto her thigh. He stiffened, but didn’t jerk away at all. Amita resorted to patting him on the head again. _

_ “Easier ta support ya if I be sittin’.” _

_ “That um… that makes sense,” he said - then he shifted into his bear form. Clintar was the only one right now who had managed to do that. Amita preened her fingers through his fur as he nuzzled his head onto her lap. _

_ It frustrated her, of course. For all the years so far that she had been coming to the Dream, she was the only one yet to master another form. Thisalee, Ysiel, Lathorius, Lilliandra, and Rabine all preferred their cat forms to their bear form, while Clintar was more comfortable as a bear. _

_ Amita could still only shift into a cobra, and any attempts she made to try and shift into a bear left her writhing in pain. She didn’t understand why, nor did Naralex, nor did Malfurion, and so far, none of her teachers had come up with anything else that she could try changing into. _

‘I guess feeling like I’m being left behind helped me improve my healing spells,’ _ she thought. Ysiel had finally caught Thisalee and was sitting straddled over the other girl’s back, brows furrowed in concentration, as she continued to trim Thisalee’s hair with the strange tool she called a scissor. _

_ The other evening, Amita had managed to heal a wounded fawn that Malfurion had brought into the Dream. _

_ And just as she was thinking of Malfurion, he, Naralex, and Fandral appeared - Fandral begrudgingly, as per usual. _

_ Clintar grumpily got up from resting on Amita’s lap. Ysiel got off of Thisalee, muttering to herself, and handing the scissors to Fandral when he held out a hand for them. _

_ Naralex was giddy. He had several books in his arms, and Malfurion clapped his hands together as the rest of the Amita’s druid mates hurried over. _

_ “All right little ones! We’re going to practice our balance today-- shush!!” Malfuion laughed as the kids groaned, “you have to practice it eventually, and today, we’re going to. Now, Amita.” _

_ She blinked, looking up at Malfurion. Was she in trouble? _

_ “You go with Naralex,” Malfurion’s smile made his eyes sparkle, “he’s going to give you some private lessons for a while.” _

_ Amita danced in place, and when Naralex offered her his hand, she eagerly grasped it. He led her to a more secluded area away from the group, footsteps quick with excitement. _

_ “Okay,” he sat her down, and got on his hands and knees in front of her, spreading out all of his books. She could see leaves, ribbons, and other small pieces of paper serving as bookmarks in various parts of the books. One book had loose pieces of paper shoved between the pages, and Naralex pulled those out first. _

_ “I’ve been practicing this for a time, and Gonk has been most helpful in my endeavors,” he shuffled the papers around before laying them out. Amita’s eyes widened. _

_ Drawn on the pages was a creature she had never seen before. Naralex had gone head on into the details, with not only sketches of the beast from every angle conceivable, but detailed drawings and notes about various parts of its body. _

_ She then noticed that this beast had  _ **_three_ ** _ heads instead of one, and she stared up at Naralex with wide, unsure eyes. _

_ “I-I dunno’ if I can--” _

_ “Obviously, the goal is not the three heads. Perhaps in the future, when you’re older, and have learned more, you’ll be able to do it,” he smiled fondly at her, “I can’t use the three heads either. Shall we begin?” _

_ Amita slowly nodded her head. Naralex tapped the side profile he’d drawn of the beast. _

_ “This is a hydra. They are large, territorial beasts, and as you can see, have three heads. Each one can behave individually of the other, though all work together to feed the single stomach they share.” _

_ “How do you be knowin’ dey be sharin’ a stomach?” _

_ “... I got a little hands on in my research,” Naralex admitted, “I needed to understand them inside, and out. They have one of every organ, but triple the amount of eyes, nose, and mouth. Each head has a unique skull structure too,” he pointed to the various drawings of skulls, “and as equally as unique horn structures. For example, the middle head - or main head - is the only head with a spike on the nose, but this head is the only one with horns that curve inward.” _

_ Amita nodded, brows furrowed in concentration. Naralex’s writing was difficult to understand on the drawings. It looked like he had written them in a hurry. _

_ “I’m working on a little booklet for you with neater notes, by the way,” he chuckled, “you won’t have to squint to read all my chicken scratches.” _

_ Amita giggled, picking up one of the drawings. The hydra had a large torso, likely meant to accommodate its three, thick necks. The tail also had a wide, flat end to it. She pointed at it. _

_ “Do de tail be fah balance?” _

_ “Yes! And I’m sure you’ve noticed that the chest is thicker and broader than the pelvis area? Where the hind legs are.” _

_ “Yah, I be seein’ dat!” she placed the page back down, and nervously toyed with her pendant, “um… do you be sure I c’n be doin’ dis…?” _

_ “Of course! Here, let me show you,” he shuffled back, and Amita watched him intently. His body shimmered with white light, and a large tail swished behind him. The neck and head were next, and lastly, the wide torso, and thick legs. _

_ He dropped down to the ground with heaviness. The unintended stomp shook the forest floor beneath Amita, and her eyes were as wide as saucers. _

_ Naralex’s hydra form was a beautiful, pure white. The scales he’d detailed in one of his drawings were a darker color, leaning more toward lavender than grey. Amita scrambled to her feet, and Naralex puffed out his chest. _

_ “See?” he mused, letting her wander around him. She patted his legs, which were so muscular Amita wondered if it would ever be possible for her to achieve that level of power. There were spines along his back and neck, indicating that it would be painful for anyone who thought they could ride on his back. _

_ He lowered his head so Amita could inspect it in detail, closing his eyes as Amita ran her fingers along every scaly ridge. Armor plating ensured the throat and stomach would be better protected from attacks. _

_ Naralex nudged Amita with his head, “ready to give it a try?” _

_ Amita made a non-committal sound, wringing her hands in her hair. _

_ “Lemme… study s’more…” _

_ “Of course! Let me know if you have any questions,” he shifted back into his night elf form, watching Amita excitedly. She opened up one of his books, looking through all the pages he had marked. Hydras had a primarily meat based diet, but were known to consume seaweed and other vegetation on occasion. _

_ Baby hydras also had three heads, and Amita tried to imagine what it would be like to split herself into three equal personality parts. _

‘Sounds like it would be a lot of trouble. And confusing. How would I even think? Would the other heads have different personalities? Which one would be the most dominant?’ _ she gripped her pendant tightly,  _ ‘ahh!! I’m too young to care about that! I need… maybe I just need to try. One head, strong chest, powerful legs, whooshy tail. That has bone bits on it. I think it would hurt a lot to hit someone with it, even by accident.’

_ Amita set down the book, nodding to herself, “okay…” _

_ The legs would be easier, so she tried them first. Naralex sputtered on a laugh as Amita dropped to all fours, scowling wide eyed at the ground, mouth in a pout. The legs were stumpy. _

_ She closed her eyes tightly. Just like when Gonk first taught her how to shift into a cobra, Amita imagined her muscles and bones shifting. She imagined her bones getting bigger, big enough to support a muscular chest and strong shoulders. She imagined her nails becoming thick, deadly claws. Everything stretched, lengthening out until her legs were thick, and powerful, instead of stumpy, and weak. _

_ Amita imagined she looked  _ **_very_ ** _ awkward though, with the legs of a hydra and the body of a troll. _

_ “Um…” she lifted one of her arms. The “hand” looked accurate enough, and Amita sat on her rump to inspect one of her feet. Looked close enough, and she had all the right joints. Naralex slid over, and inspected her hind legs as well. _

_ “Hip… stifle, hock… tarsal… good, you have all the correct joints. Foreleg please?” _

_ Amita set her massive paw in his hand, and he ran his hand along the leg. She shuddered at the sensation, and was pleased to know she was feeling things correctly. _

_ “Shoulder… elbow, annnd… carpal. Perfect! Both of your forelegs are good. Now, tail or body?” _

_ “Um… lemme try de tail,” Amita decided. She got up on her legs into the awkward all-fours position, and muttered to herself as she looked over one of Naralex’s drawings. The rump of the hydra was higher than the dip in the back, but the dip in the back wasn’t as drastic as she initially thought. _

_ “Tail be… bit longah den de body… okay,” she mumbled to herself, shifting on her legs until she felt she was in a more comfortable position. By Gonk, she was going to need to practice shifting into this form  _ **_a lot_ ** _ until it became second nature like turning into a cobra did. _

_ Forming the tail was more painful, as it required her to shift the length of her spine. When she imagined the cobra tail instead, it was easier. _

_ “That’s a good shape Amita! Good length too. Try the paddle?” _

_ Amita nodded, closing her eyes, and focusing on flattening out the end of her tail. Naralex’s hands were a helpful guide, and she heard him say, “let’s skip the bone spikes for now. You can work on those later.” _

_ Again, she nodded her head, and Naralex moved away from her tail. _

_ “You’re doing great! Torso and head left.” _

_ “Torso next den,” Amita said. She allowed her chest to puff out, back arching ever so much as she did so. It was difficult to imagine the plates running down her chest, and so, Amita chose to leave out that detail for now. Without prompting from Naralex, she lengthened her neck, eyes pinching in pain. Her hair smoothed down the back of her neck, and down her spine. She imagined the scales were darker, much like how Naralex’s back scales had been darker than the white of his body. _

_ “Just a little more!!” Naralex cupped her face in his hands, and she whimpered, though turning into a hydra was  _ **_considerably_ ** _ less painful than turning into a bear, “you can do this, Amita.” _

_ When she opened her eyes, she had to jerk her head back. _

_ And immediately lost her balance, stumbling to the side. Naralex caught her with his neck, and Amita was hopeful that one day, she would be able to shift into a hydra as quickly as he did. _

_ He pranced around her, “look at you!! A black mini me!” _

_ Naralex nudged her side with his head, and she trilled. She wished there were a mirror nearby so she could see herself, but alas, she would have to make due. The next several minutes had Naralex walking her through developing the scale plating on her chest, and stomach - a simple task, once she had a better idea of the shapes of the scales. _

_ The black spikes along her back she imagined were made up of her hair, and hard like rock. The bone spikes protruding from the tail, though, those were much more difficult. More difficult even than forming the small horn on her nose, and the sweeping horns on her head. _

_ She managed to form three bone protrusions before flopping on the ground, exhausted. _

_ Naralex laid down next to her, and nudged her head with his. _

_ “I’m proud of you, Amita.” _

* * *

A week later, and Amita was finally given the chance to observe her hydra form in a still pool of water.

Naralex had mentioned that she’d looked like a black mini version of him, but Amita felt her scales were leaning more toward a deep purple than a true black. Even the thicker scales on her back were not quite as dark as the night sky.

_ ‘I like it, though,’ _ she pranced around the pool,  _ ‘I still haven’t shown Jashik this form, but I told him I could turn into one. He doesn’t know what a hydra is. Which is… fair.’ _

Truthfully, she hadn’t seen any hydras on the island either - but then again, she had never gone much further than the beach to the west, the village to the south, and her cave, which was more or less in the middle of the island. Amita sighed, lying down by the water.

In a few weeks, Naralex and Malfurion agreed to teach their pupils how to form decals when shifting into their druid forms. Amita wasn’t sure how that would even be possible, but Malfurion had gone into a long explanation about the arcane and druidic balance magic, and Amita hadn’t meant to zone out completely, but she did.

With a groan, the hydra tucked her head against the soil,  _ ‘I still feel bad for zoning out… hopefully when we have the actual lesson, I’ll be able to pay attention.’ _

After admiring her new form in the water for a moment longer, Amita shifted back into her troll self. Her trek toward the cave wasn’t too difficult, and along the way, Jashik found her. She was about to reach her safe haven when she heard Gonk’s voice.

_ A detour may be in order. _

Amita furrowed her brows,  _ ‘what?’ _

_ I suggest you go to the southwest. I think it may be for the best that you do. _

Though she was confused, Amita obeyed Gonk’s suggestion. Jashik followed her faithfully, and the further southwest Amita went into the jungle, the more anxious she became.

The naga were crawling around the jungle once again, and Amita shifted into a cobra. She wove between Jashik’s feet as they roamed, only darting away every now and then to investigate any sounds.

A mere twenty minutes later, and Amita came across a makeshift camp.

_ ‘This isn’t right.’ _

Amita rummaged around the poorly made camp, brows furrowed. There was hardly  _ anything _ worth noting, save for perhaps a dirty, embroidered blanket. The young girl coiled up, rattling her tail.

_ ‘Who would make a camp out here when there are nagas crawling all over the jungle again?’ _

Surely not one of the kids from the village… right? The adults wouldn’t let them be so foolish. She doubted that Vol and his friend Zalazane would’ve kept quiet about their close encounter with one little over a year ago, and she knew how many times Vol had gotten into a scuffle with the snake people since then. Plus, she’d seen a few recently, and knew that they were uncharacteristically aggressive during this time of the year.

She heard footsteps, and bolted into a nearby bush.

Even as a snake, her jaw dropped open when she saw who it was.

Rubbing bitterly at her face was Luxanai. Amita could only stare while the other girl begrudgingly wrapped herself up in the dirty blanket. Her fiery hair was a mess. Dark circles were under her eyes. Amita distinctly heard a rumbling sound, after which Luxanai grumbled something about her stomach needing to be quiet.

The cobra emerged from the bushes, hissing softly. Luxanai pouted at her.

“Snakey…”

Amita tilted her head to the side, and Luxanai laughed weakly, “I um… I thought that I could… I dunno… live out here like snakey. But it’s so hard!”

When Amita slithered closer, Luxanai reached out to pat her on the head, “and it’s so cold… how do you manage?”

As best she could manage with limited expression, Amita gave Luxanai the most unimpressed look she possibly could. Her tail flicked from side-to-side, and the frown on Luxanai’s lips became more prominent.

_ ‘Isn’t it obvious? I’ve been out here all my life, first with muuka who taught me how to live, and now I’m with Jashik who helps me hunt _ ,’ Amita released a low hiss. If only she were willing to reveal her troll form to Luxanai, or talk comfortably in this form like she did with her druid mates. She could tell Luxanai  _ exactly _ why she managed.

However, Amita thought it better to get Luxanai back to the village. She grabbed the bottom of Luxanai’s blanket and yanked with all her might. Luxanai yelped, “hey!”

Amita pulled and yanked until the blanket was secure in her mouth, and no longer wrapped around Luxanai. She slithered off with it, only to have Luxanai belly flop onto her.

“That’s mine!!” she exclaimed, far too loudly for Amita’s liking. The naga could be anywhere - and while Jashik was faithfully nearby, the naga were stealthy creatures. Amita hastily wrote in the ground with her tail once Luxanai had rolled off her.

‘Go back’.

Luxanai blinked, then fiddled with her blanket.

“I um… I dunno how to get back… I lost my way…”

Amita’s snake jaw dropped at the little girl, who flushed in both embarrassment and frustration. Tears began gathering in her eyes.

“I’m not like you snakey! You’re all slithery an-and stealthy and I’m just… I’m just me…”

The cobra shook her head, then grabbed Luxanai’s blanket again. This time, she pulled gently, and eventually, Luxanai was walking with her, holding onto the blanket with one hand.

Amita knew which direction the village was from here, and with the comforting vibrations from Jashik’s nearby footsteps, she was confident she could get Luxanai back to the village with little trouble. Her only irritation right now was that Luxanai was walking too slowly. Stopping, Amita opted to peer at the other girl’s feet. Dismay filled her chest.

Luxanai’s feet were cut up, cracked, and bruised. She must have come into the jungles with nothing but her bare feet, and likely stepped on some sharp rocks.

_ ‘Or are these wounds from something else…?’ _ Amita wondered, looking up at Luxanai. The girl refused to look at her, and attempted to rock back and forth on her feet. She winced in pain.

Amita recalled the harsh voice that had called for Luxanai the first time they met. She recalled the bruises that had been on her face.

Perhaps Luxanai did not have a good home life, and Amita wasn’t sure she wanted to understand what that might be.

Just as she was preparing to heal Luxanai’s feet, especially given that her healing had increased considerably over the past few months, Jashik released a loud growl.

Luxanai yelped at the sound, then yelped again when Amita clamped her mouth down tightly on the girl’s blanket and jerked her into the nearest bush.

“Sn-snakey!!”

With great effort, Amita coiled herself around Luxanai’s legs, planted her head on the other girl’s back, and made the best shushing sound she could manage.

Luxanai, thankfully, quickly understood and fell silent. The minutes passed slowly. Jashik drew closer, growling again - a disgruntled hiss answered him, followed by strange words.

Naga.

Amita’s heart thumped rapidly in her chest. She refused to move away until Jashik chuffed at the bush. Then and only then did she uncoil herself from Luxanai and slither under the raptor.

Luxanai shuffled out of the bush moments later, staring up at the black beast in awe. His brows narrowed at her, but he lowered himself closer to the ground until he was crouching. Amita poked her head out from under him, then grabbed Luxanai’s blanket in her mouth again.

It took some effort, but Amita was able to get Luxanai to first drape her blanket over Jashik’s back, and then she managed to help her friend onto the large beast. Once there, Amita nudged Luxanai’s feet with her nose, one at a time, to channel healing magic through the cuts and bruises. This time, the injuries were fully healed, and Amita flared out her hood in pride.

Luxanai beamed down at her, “my feet feel so much better! Thanks, snakey!”

With Luxanai on Jashik’s back, it was easier for Amita to get her friend back to the village safely. She chose to stay hidden in the treeline as Jashik walked closer, and immediately attracted the attention of the trolls present.

A group of children - most that Amita recognized - raced toward Jashik, calling for Luxanai. A boy with a shaved head helped Luxanai get off Jashik’s back, while the others curiously inspected Jashik. He tolerated their curiosity, but when Vol drew closer, Jashik lowered his head. She could imagine the raptor grumbling, and Vol’s ears flicked back as the other kids began to tease him about something.

Jashik made his way toward the jungles hastily, as a handful of adult trolls were drawn to the commotion. One of them looked rather angry, and Amita caught a glimpse of Luxanai folding in on herself. Part of her wanted to dash forward and snap at their ankles, but the risk was too great. She would get caught, and if she were mistaken as an  _ actual _ cobra, she would likely be killed.

Faithfully, Amita followed Jashik back to the cave, weaving around his feet as she always did.

  
  


_ “So… Amita.” _

_ She looked up at Jhordis as best she could. She sat on the older woman’s lap as Jhordis fussed over braiding Amita’s hair. It was similar to the first time Malfurion had done it, though Jhordis was actually  _ **_weaving_ ** _ the flowers through Amita’s hair instead of just sticking them in. She’d met the rogue a few days ago, and already Jhordis was hyper-attached. _

_ The woman was tall, muscular, and her white hair was cut short - right up to her scalp - on one side, while the other side was left long and flowing, just past Jhordis’ shoulder. She had tattoos on her face that were in an almost butterfly pattern; they were dark purple, a perfect contrast to Jhordis’ hair, and her skin was a lovely, warm pinkish purple. _

_ “Yes, Jhordis?” _

_ “You never told me much about yourself! What sort of things do you like to do?” _

_ “Um…” Amita plucked at the tall grass, “I be likin’ ta draw! An’ collect herbs, ‘n’ shells, ‘n’ rocks!” _

_ “Oh!! A collector, are we?” Jhordis laughed, smoothing her hands along Amita’s hair, “I used to collect sticks when I was little.” _

_ Disgruntled muttering caught Jhordis’ attention, and she turned her attention to Naralex. He scowled at her. She scowled back. _

_ “You’re here by shan’do’s will only, Jhordis.” _

_ “Yes, yes, I know the lot of you would have rathered I disappear with the rest of the high elves,” she chirped, her hands stilling for a moment in Amita’s hair, “that, and I’m a rogue now, not the most usual thing that would be in the Emerald Dream.” _

_ Amita looked off to the side, fiddling with her pendant, “um… um what kind of sticks did you like to be collectin’?” _

_ Naralex smiled fondly at Amita, and as Jhordis stood, she lifted Amita to settle against her hip. Amita tilted her head at the older woman. _

_ “Usually ones that looked stranger than most. I think a lot of them were unfortunately hex sticks used by hags and harpies to cast their spells - but I digress! I also had branches of flowering trees that my father - a druid, like Stormrage, when he was alive - would preserve,” she smiled blissfully as she wandered more into the clearing, “those, I still have, framed and hung on the wall of my home.” _

_ Naralex trailed behind the two, as when Jhordis was in the Dream, it was impossible for Amita to focus on her classes - and not because Amita didn't want to, but because Jhordis insisted that the young troll spend time with her. _

_ “Well! Naralex let it slip that you like dancing! Why don’t I teach you some things, Amita~?” _

_ A smile spread across Amita’s lips, and she nodded her head. Jhordis glided over to a clear part of the Dream. Naralex seemed happy with this change in plans, and chose to settle on the grass to observe. In the distance, Malfurion and Fandral taught a group of older druids, and Elerethe handled Amita’s druid-mates. _

_ But as Amita was taken further into the clearing, she noticed something dark and foreboding. It seemed to be lurking there, waiting, and for whatever reason, it was  _ **_tempting_ ** _. It was the same darkness she had seen previously, beckoning to her, just as it had beckoned to her before. _

_ “So!” _

_ Jhordis’ voice distracted Amita from the coiling black and red. _

_ “This is called ‘first position’,” the night elf demonstrated. She had her legs together, feet facing out to the left and the right as opposed to forwards. Her arms were slightly outstretched ahead of her, bent at the elbows to bring her hands in front of her chest - and lastly, her hands were also bent at the wrists, fingers slightly less than a hands width apart from each other. _

_ “Second position,” Jhordis continued smoothly, feet still pointed outward to the left and right, and legs now parted in more of an upside-down V shape, “arms like this.” _

_ She held her arms extended outward to her sides, palms facing the front and fingers somewhat fanned. Amita tilted her head to the side, still trying to figure out how to stand with her legs together and feet pointing outward to the sides. _

_ “Fourth position.” _

_ Amita shook her head, eyes wide with shock. Jumping from second to fourth? Where was the third? A smile pulled at Jhordis’ lips. Her feet were now crossed, left in front of the right, feet still facing outward to the sides, and Amita could hardly wrap her head around  _ **_how_ ** _ Jhordis was keeping her feet pointed the way she was. _

_ “My legs are about a step apart for fourth position, like so,” she turned so Amita could see, and then shifted her arms, “and fourth position arms, like so.” _

_ Her left arm was in the same as the very first position she’d shown Amita, while her right arm was raised above her head, slightly bent at the elbow. Her hands were always positioned so delicately; Amita wondered if she’d be able to channel such elegance. She was but a little troll child, after all. _

_ “Fifth position is the same as forth, however, your legs are touching,” the rogue moved her arms again, “third position for the arms,” she extended her left arm out to the side, keeping her right arm above her head, “and fifth position.” _

_ Her left arm came up to join her right, outstretched above her head but bent slightly at the elbow. She held the position for a moment more and then, she relaxed. _

_ “Why dere be no third position?” Amita inquired, tilting her head to the other side. Jhordis chuckled. _

_ “Third position and fifth position are especially similar regarding the position of the legs. I opt not to teach it as a result. Only the arms are of significant difference,” she beamed down at Amita, “here, let’s go through them together. First position.” _

_ Amita did her best. The arm positions were much easier for her than the leg positions. Jhordis was a strict teacher, adjusting Amita’s positioning by the slightest of millimeters. Amita thought that all the time she spent hunting with Jashik and running through the jungle and climbing the trees would have made learning how to do this strange dance easy, but Loa did her legs  _ **_burn_ ** _. _

_ By the time she was done with her little lesson, her thighs and calves were protesting her actions vehemently. Even her arms ached a little. Jhordis, at least, was rather pleased with Amita’s progress in such a short amount of time. _

_ “Practice some more outside the Dream! Oh, and make sure you do some stretches, but I’m sure you already know about those. And then when you come back next, I’ll have one of my druid students teach you more,” her eyes flicked to Naralex, then to Malfurion. She leaned down to scoop Amita back up in her arms, her voice a whisper when she spoke again, “Naralex and shan’do Stormrage don’t like it when I pester them about bringing me here. I think it takes a great deal of Stormrage’s power to keep a non-druid within the dream.” _

_ “Ah… so I won’ be seein’ ya again…?” Amita asked softly. Jhordis was quiet for quite some time. The prickles of consciousness came to Amita’s mind, and she reached up to pat Jhordis on the cheek. _

_ “Jhordis?” _

_ “... I never did tell you why I wanted to meet you, did I?” _

_ Amita shook her head. _

_ “I always wanted a daughter.” _

_ Jhordis brushed the back of her fingers along Amita’s cheek, “but I never thought I could be a mother - and yes, of course you’ll see me again! Just… not in the Dream.” _

_ “Mm…” Amita looked down at the ground solemnly. She slid out of Jhordis’ arms, doing her best to smile up at the woman, “well! I guess… I guess I’ll be seein’ ya some othah time den? I gotta’ go…” _

_ Jhordis sunk gracefully to her knees, and leaned forward to kiss Amita on the forehead, “yes, and yes. You’ve had a long Dream. It’s time for you to wake up.” _

Amita found herself staring at Jashik’s face.

The muscles in her legs still burned.


	4. Catch Me If You Can

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Catch me if you can  
> Catch me if you can  
> A stranger walks beside you  
> And we're just lovers for the night  
> And when the sun comes up you wake and just  
> And leave it there, leave it there  
> Yeah we can leave it there."  
> \- Catch Me If You Can // Walking on Cars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is titled after the song "Catch me if you can" by Walking on Cars (https://youtu.be/aypOE3ZRxxM). Really good song that suits... basically this chapter and the next chapter entirely. I really put off posting this chapter because I keep rereading it and editing it and rereading it and EDITING IT, so um... I'm posting it to have it posted, so that I can encourage myself to finish chapter 6, and post chapter 5. I don't think Fieschada will be TOO much longer... we'll see. I'm incredibly long-winded as it is haha!!
> 
> Thank you for reading, feel free to ask me any questions! You can also find me on Twitter under the same handle (Airanke). I'm sorry if some things aren't consistent... this is the problem that occurs when I am determined to endlessly edit my work :C
> 
> Again, this story includes a lot of characters that belong to my friends!

“VOL!!!”

The young troll in question looked up, brows furrowed in confusion. Zalazane was racing down the beach, face white, expression horrified. He caught his friend by the shoulders as Zalazane nearly barreled him over.

“Zal-- what’s going on!?”

“I-I-I-I-” Zalazane stammered, looking over his shoulder, then back at Vol. He grasped Vol tightly by his biceps, “I’m sorry!”

Further confused, Vol tilted his head, “what… are you sorry about?”

“W-we were all just talkin’, and they asked me why you keep disappearing all the time, and like an  _ idiot _ , I told them!”

Vol stared at him, hands dropping away from his shoulders,  _ ‘oh no.’ _

“I wasn’t thinking! I just said something about ‘the girl Vol keeps chasing’! And um, I never knew that Rokhan could have such a nerve wracking stare… but that’s besides the point! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tell them, and--”

“Vol what girl is Zalazane talking about?!” Legati’s voice was unmistakable.

“And how come you never told us??” that was Zen’tabra. Vol could  _ feel _ the color drain from his face. Zalazane groaned, burying his face in his hands, and Vol was immediately swarmed by the rest of their friend group.

What was her name, what did she look like, was she wild, she was wild wasn’t she, she was a  _ wild child _ . Vol sputtered and stammered over answers, steering clear of referring to her as ‘Amita’, and barely managing to avoid calling her by the nickname he had given her.

“Look I didn’t  _ tell _ you guys because she’s shy, okay?! I’m trying to get her to the village, and the rest of you would probably muck up my plans!”

“Aww, I bet we could help!” Zabraz argued, while the others agreed, “getting away from one of us is easy, but all of us?”

“Seems like she does a good job getting away from you!” Voldreka teased, and Vol scowled at the ground.

“Yeah, well, she knows the jungles better than my dad,” he muttered - and that only opened him up to more demands and questions. He looked around, hoping that Rokhan was nearby, and that the older troll would help him escape this entirely unwanted situation.

Zalazane had moved over to a nearby hut, where he sat crouched. Vol’s ears pinned back, and Vanira - though clearly as interested in learning more about Amita - moved toward the witch doctor. She crouched in front of him, brows narrowed back, and raised a hand to rub Zalazane’s shoulder comfortingly.

“Okay, leave Vol alone,” Rokhan’s voice was a blessing, and the shadow hunter grasped Vol by the wrist, “he needs to shadow me, and Denjai today.”

“Denjai!!” the kids danced in place excitedly, “the new shadow hunter!”

“Yeah, the new shadow hunter. We have high hopes that Vol will become a shadow hunter as quickly as him,” Rokhan announced, giving Vol a wink. Vol was grateful for the distraction -  _ ‘thank the Loa Rokhan actually appeared’ - _ as his friends immediately forgot about Amita, and hounded Vol with questions about becoming a shadow hunter as Rokhan pulled him away.

His gut was heavy with regret, though, over telling his friends anything about Amita at all.

* * *

Another year crawled by. Vol, and Amita, caught sight of each other less and less - Vol was more often than not stuck in the village, and by the time he had any free time to himself, it would either be too dark to go into the jungles to try and track her down, or his father came up with some marvelous chore for the boy to do. The rare moment Vol got to spend chasing Amita down ended up being moments he cherished.

Even if he was still no closer to getting the answers from her that he desired.

Vol spun a dagger around in his hand idly, staring up at the sky. His red hair was matted to his temple with sweat, and if he weren’t so tired from training he would have just cut some strands of red hair away from his forehead.

_ ‘Not the time for that,’ _ he sighed, looking off toward the jungle.

Not a week went by without him feeling Amita’s insistent gaze, especially since this new schedule of his had started. Sometimes it was intense, and mixed with a sort of longing he couldn’t put his finger on. Other times, it was wary, as if she were anticipating that he would turn on his heel and chase her through the jungles.

Of course, Vol  _ assumed _ that Amita’s longing gaze was because she wanted to be with them all.

Several times he’d caught Luxanai trying to sneak off into the jungle. Both he and Legati had opted to keep an eye on the fiery girl ever since she’d been returned to the village on the back of a large black raptor - Jashik, Amita had called him. He doubted that the beast was  _ her  _ pet, because she obviously wasn’t a hunter.

In turn, Vol was convinced that since meeting Amita, Luxanai had been more adamant about muscling her way into games, and into the lives of the other kids. Her new found confidence had her learning how to use a bow as well.

_ ‘I’m also pretty sure Luxanai is going the hunter route because she’s trying to figure out how to live on her own in the jungle,’  _ he furrowed his brows,  _ ‘though I see her with bruises a lot. Don’t think her life at home is all that great…’ _ he frowned at the sand, ears flicking at the soft shuffle of footsteps. His thoughts drifted back to Amita’s raptor companion. Perhaps Jashik had belonged to someone else? Maybe he was just a raptor that Amita had happened to befriend?

_ ‘I need answers damn it!!’ _ he flicked a rock, scowling now. Maybe he should take one day,  _ one day _ where he didn’t try to chase her down and catch her and bring her to the village, and just have a conversation with her. He wondered how that would go. Sure the two of them  _ talked _ , but it was usually to chastise each other, and very few times did he actually  _ learn _ anything about her, or her about him. She didn’t know he was the chieftain’s son, and he sure as hell didn’t know who  _ her _ parents were,  _ ‘or if she even has parents.’ _

“So!”

Vol looked up, squinting in the sun for a moment before his eyes focused on Legati. A pout crossed Vol’s lips now. His friend had impeccable timing.

The taller boy leaned against the boulder that Vol had his back to, “when you gonna’ bring that wild child over here, eh?”

“She’s not a ‘wild child’,” Vol muttered, sliding his dagger back into its sheath, “she just… isn’t in the village with us. That doesn’t make her wild.”

Legati arched a hairless brow, “I’m thinkin’ it makes her wild. Wilder even than Luxanai.”

“ _ She’s _ not wild either,” Vol huffed, cuffing Legati on the ear - though Vol couldn’t ignore the wistful tone Legati had when he said it of Luxanai. The rogue ducked, clutching his ear, then trailed after Vol when the redhead started off. It wouldn’t take him much longer. One of these days, he  _ was _ going to catch Amita, and bring her to the village. Especially while they were still young.

He was just pushing his thirteenth year himself, along with all the other kids in his year group, of course. Vol’s mind was already barreling forward two years, sweating the details of their coming of age celebration, when they all reached their fifteenth year.

Sen’jin had already hinted that Vol would be getting his ‘second’ name.

Giddy as it made him, Vol couldn’t stop thinking back to Amita. As he walked swiftly through the village, Legati continued to trail after him - and soon, so did Zalazane, Voldreka, and Zabraz.

_ ‘I gotta’ get her to the village within two years,’  _ he brought a hand to his chin as he stopped by his father’s hut. Legati took his spot next to the shorter male, resting his elbow on Vol’s shoulder,  _ ‘that’s my time limit. If she’s here for a celebration, she’ll want to stay!! -- right?’ _

He shrugged Legati’s arm off his shoulder, “what do you want?”

“Nothin’!” Legati chirped, poking Vol in the forehead, “‘cept I wanna’ know what you’re thinkin’ about.”

“Mm. Wanna’ figure out how to get moonlight here--” and his face reddened,  _ ‘oh no. No, of all the times I had to let it slip!’ _

“ _ Moonlight?” _ Zalazane repeated, a deep frown on his lips, “is that… is that a  _ nickname _ ?”

Vol’s blush deepened as a scowl crossed his features. No point in trying to hide it now, “she uh, she insisted on callin’ me sunshine, so, um, I decided to call her moonlight.”

“Ooooh~?” Voldreka purred, and Zabraz snickered under his breath, “Vol’s exchanging  _ nicknames _ with the wild child.”

“I told Legati already, but she’s _not_ a wild child!”

“No need to get so  _ defensive _ Vol~” Voldreka rolled back on his heels when Vol took a step toward him, “you’ll make us all think you have a  _ crush _ ~”

Loa, did Vol  _ hate _ how Voldreka dragged out that last word. Legati made it no better by saying “ooo, Vol has a cruuuush~” in the most sing-song voice he could manage. Muttering various curses under his breath, Vol stalked off. His friends followed without fail, of course, still making jeers at him while Zalazane berated him:

“You’re  _ sooo _ in love, son of Sen’jin!”

“Vol you seriously need to  _ give up _ on her, you won’t catch her, not with the naga crawling around the jungles like they’ve been doing as of late--”

“Oh Loa, Zalazane, you’re such a worrier!”

“Shut up, Legati.”

“So we just gonna’ ignore that he’s in love?”

“Who’s in love now?”

Vol dragged both hands down his face, groaning.

“Nobody!” he exclaimed before sprinting off down the beach. Tunari gasped loudly, and of  _ course _ they all gave chase. Legati exuberantly announced that Vol was the one in love. Vol veered off the beach and right into the jungles. A chuckle escaped him at Zalazane’s  _ screech _ .

_ ‘I doubt I can lose them,’ _ he wove through the trees best he could. He knew that of his friends, Legati and Zabraz were the most physically able. Zalazane, and Voldreka would tire out the fastest. Tunari would likely be not too far behind, but she was a sprinter.

Vol felt fortunate to have escaped her on the beach--

He gasped sharply when something grabbed his ankle and yanked him under a low hanging tree. Vol pulled back a leg to kick.

When he saw that it was a large black cobra; he froze mid-kick.

One of Amita’s snake brows appeared to raise - then she proceeded to drag him behind the tree. Vol carefully pulled down a large leaf to hide his hair. Legati raced by not a moment later, while Zabraz skid to a halt. He was breathing heavily, and wiped sweat from his brow.

“Eh now where’d he go!?” Legati exclaimed. Vol ducked low and followed Amita as she slithered silently from one tree to the next.

“Someone who has hair like  _ that _ doesn’t just  _ disappear! _ ”

More kids stumbled through the bush. Zalazane was horribly flushed, wheezing, and Tunari was already pressing a glowing hand to his forehead. He tried to slap her away, and while Vol felt guilty for his friend’s condition, he continued to follow Amita anyway.

“I-I-I’m fine.”

“If you’re _fine_ you wouldn’t be doing that stutter-y thing you be doing when you _aren’t_ fine,” Tunari tsked, looping one of Zalazane’s arms over her shoulders while hooking her arm around his waist, “and maybe you guys should leave Vol alone for a little bit. This is one of the few days where we can do whatever we want, you know!”

“Yeah, well--”

“Guys.”

Voldreka’s serious voice caught even Vol’s ear. He paused. He remained still even when Amita wrapped her tail around his ankle and tugged when he stood still too long for her liking.

“What if the wild child got him?”

Now, Vol wasn’t sure what expressions they’d all made - because he was half peering around a tree and only knew that Tunari looked  _ incredibly _ unamused - but heat blossomed between his eyes.

_ ‘I regret telling them _ ,’ he glanced down at Amita, as she’d released his ankle. She stared up at him, her expression unreadable.

“Well even if she  _ did _ find him, he probably followed her to get away from us,” Tunari chided, “now let’s get back to the village. Vol will come back when he wants to.”

“But--”

“No buts Zal!” she snapped, starting off. Vol waited a moment more - then he stormed in the opposite direction of the village. He wished Zalazane had never let it slip that he was chasing a girl around the jungles; he chided himself for letting the nickname slip.

He didn’t know where he was going, and he didn’t care.

_ ‘Zal apologized, sure he did - but everyone else was still demanding answers,’ _ he raked a hand through his hair in frustration, ‘a _ nd now everybody keeps calling her the wild child just because she lives out here in the jungle and not with us--’ _

A yelp of pain escaped him, because apparently his companion had decided that this time, she was going to use her teeth to grab at his ankle. He staggered away from her as Amita reared up, hood flared, and fell onto his bottom as a result. Blood dribbled down his foot for a brief moment before his regeneration closed the wound.

Amita shifted to her troll form and scurried onto a nearby rock. Vol had stomped into a clearing before Amita had chosen to stop him.

“... wild child.”

She hadn’t meant to say it in such a flat voice. Any confidence Amita had gained from her druidic teachers was entirely quashed.

_ ‘They think I’m a wild child…’ _

Vol’s face reddened with obvious anger, much to Amita’s surprise.

“Yeah, well, I  _ told _ them that you  _ aren’t _ a wild child and they won’t--  _ e’chuta, _ they won’t  _ listen _ to me!”

Amita frowned, hugging her knees to her chest. Soon enough Vol appeared in her vision, hands settling on her feet.

“You aren’t wild.”

“I guess.”

“Believe me, moonlight.”

She pouted at him, and poked him in the nose, “hard to believe you when there are so many clouds, sunshine.”

Vol pursed his lips - then he gave her a cattish grin.

“Soooo… does this mean that I caught you~?”

Amita lunged off the rock, tackling him, eyes wide and cheeks red. Vol, despite being winded when she knocked him to the ground, easily overpowered her and was soon straddling her stomach. They grappled for a minute, Amita twisting her wrists out of his grip.

Her shift into a cobra saw Vol groaning in frustration.

“Why do you hafta’ be so  _ elusive _ , moonlight!?”

“Because!” she snapped after escaping behind a tree and shifting back into a troll, “I don’t really want to be around people who think I’m a wild child! Just cuz I live in the jungle! And just cuz I’m not like  _ them _ !”

Loa, did it bother her - and now her eyes were stinging with tears, and she glared at Vol like it was all  _ his  _ fault. She dug her nails into the tree bark.

“I don’t belong.”

“ _ Yes _ you  _ do _ ,” Vol growled through clenched teeth. For someone so young, he was sure determined. Amita shook her head. Vol balled his hands into fists.

“You’re a  _ Darkspear _ , you belong with  _ us _ .”

Amita ran.

She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. How did  _ he _ know she was a Darkspear? Because her father was?

Because her  _ mother _ had been one? 

“YOU DON’T KNOW  _ ANYTHING _ !” she screamed, not caring if Vol actually heard her. Amita jumped onto the nearest tree and scaled it, choking on sobs.

It had been years since she’d thought about her mother.

Amita was filled with anger, and pain, and a hollow, hollow sorrow.

“Yuh-you don’t know  _ anythin’ _ , s-stuh- _ stupid _ sunshine…” Amita sobbed against the tree. She dug scores into the wood.

Alba’vida had shown her how to climb. How to fight. How to hide. How to mend her own clothes as she had started growing, how to skin animals, how to take care of Jashik, where the best places were to fish, where the best places were to hunt--

A gasp escaped Amita when she remembered she’d left Vol  _ alone _ in the jungle. Tigers, raptors, naga-- she was about to throw herself out of the tree when a hand touched her foot.

Jashik was holding Vol up on his dark snout. Perhaps the two had crossed paths. Jashik never failed to be nearby, keeping an eye on Amita, and the girl still clung to the raptor as her last memory of her mother.

“Hey.”

Amita wiped at her face and her nose, sniffling, “I can get down myself.”

“I-- let me help you.”

“I can  _ do it  _ **_myself_ ** ,” Amita reiterated, swinging both her legs over the branch she’d sat on and away from Vol. She caught a glimpse of his ears pinning back; the hand he’d stretched out to her clenched in a tight first. Amita effortlessly shimmied down the tree, and Jashik lowered his head enough for Vol to hop off his nose.

Immediately Amita went to the raptor’s side, and he released a low growl at Vol in response. The boy crossed his arms over his chest. He looked defeated. The silence between them was uncomfortable, and Amita shifted from side to side.

“... I don’t know the jungle like you do,” Vol said quietly. Amita’s ears flicked, “I um… I don’t know the way back home from here.”

“Oh…” Amita twisted her fingers in her dishevelled hair. Vol sniffed.

“Yet.”

“What?”

“I don’t know the jungles like you do  _ yet _ .”

The determination in his face reminded her of when Malfurion had said something similar to her. That even though she hadn’t been able to make an herb bloom, she had made it grow.

Amita huffed, wiping at her eyes again before climbing onto Jashik’s back with ease.

“Let him on, Jashik,” she told the raptor. He groaned, and she tsked at him, “don’t you throw such a huge fuss! You let him on your  _ nose! _ ”

Jashik continued to grumble, but lowered his body to the ground anyway. Amita shifted her gaze to Vol, “well? Get on then, sunshine.”

Vol’s expression was one that Amita did not have the words to explain. He soundlessly climbed up onto Jashik’s back, setting his hands loosely on Amita’s shoulders. She patted Jashik on the neck, and the raptor turned to his right. He started off slow. Amita was used to riding him bareback and without any reins - though she had made some loose rope necklaces for him, just in case she needed to grab onto something. His old beaded ropes were too tight for her to grasp anymore.

When Jashik suddenly went from a gentle trot to a full out sprint, Amita had to grab Vol’s arms and pull them around her neck like a cape.

“You should be holdin’ on!!”

“But you’re a  _ girl! _ ” came Vol’s retort. Confusion settled on Amita’s features. When had  _ that _ ever been a problem?

“So?? What you gonna’ hold on to, huh!? The  _ air?? _ ”

“I-- you-- that--!!” and he rasped out an expletive she’d never heard before, and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. Amita was unperturbed, and rolled her eyes. She curled her fingers loosely in the ropes around Jashik’s neck.

“You’re really stupid sometimes, sunshine.”

“Be quiet, moonlight,” he grumbled back. She couldn’t stop a giggle from escaping, and it wasn’t long before Jashik settled into a steady pace.

But Amita realized very quickly that he was  _ not _ going back to the village. She tightened her fingers in the ropes, worried and confused. Vol was none the wiser; she could feel his head turning from side to side as he looked around.

“... y’know,” he started, and he was easy to hear because he’d chosen to rest his chin on Amita’s shoulder, “I’ve never gone this far before.”

Amita wasn’t sure what to say.

“There’s a lot of herbs in this area!” she blurted out after a moment, “lots of them are good for, um, healin’, a-and, some of them help with sleepin’.”

“How’d you figure that out?”

She blushed, glaring as hard as she could at the back of Jashik’s head, “testin’.”

“Testing?” Vol asked, curiosity in his voice.

“Yeah um… I got a cut once, and I thought, ‘what would happen if I crushed up this herb, and put it on my leg?’ It stung a little, but then it soothed my cut. So I figured it had healin’ properties,” she reached back to pull Vol’s head down as she leaned forward. Jashik had gotten too close to a low-hanging branch. The raptor grumbled an apology, and Amita huffed.

She could tell little lies. Naralex had consistently been giving her lessons on the herbs she kept finding, and on the herbs he brought into the Dream with him. She had a lot of parchments filled with doodles and notes about them.

Vol didn’t need to know that, though.

“So for the sleeping one, you had trouble sleeping so you just… ate it?”

“Pretty much,” Amita confirmed. Vol’s chest vibrated with laughter.

“What are they called?”

“Peacebloom, and silverleaf - and um, valerian root is the sleepin’ one.”

“… you talk about them like the witch doctors do,” Vol observed, his arms tightening around her waist, “someone had to have taught you. I know a little bit about peacebloom and silverleaf, but you talk about them like you  _ studied _ them. And I’ve  _ never _ heard of valerian root, ‘cept by my chaako, and in passing.”

Her ears reddened, “um… I…”

“Did someone  _ teach _ you?” he pressed, and when his arms tightened around her again, Amita was certain he thought she would leap off Jashik’s back to try and escape the conversation.

“You could say that,” she relented, and turned her head to try and scowl at the boy, “but that’s all you’re gettin’ outta’ me ‘bout it!”

Vol deflated, “oh…”

They continued in silence for a while, and Jashik’s steady pace brought them to a mostly empty beach - there was the odd crab and turtle, of course. Vol looked around curiously, then hummed.

“I’m  _ pretty sure _ this isn’t the way back to the village.”

“Yeah well I don’t know what this big lizard is plannin’!” Amita snapped, kicking Jashik in the side. He chortled, “don’t you laugh!! You big troublemaker!”

Unfortunately, Vol laughed too, “I don’t mind.”

“I think the village might mind!!!”

A series of grumbles left the boy; Jashik came to a stop, and hunkered down on the ground.

“Jashik!!” Amita yelped, panic bubbling in her chest, “we gotta’ go back!! Why are you being so fussy!?”

As she berated her mount, Vol slid off. Amita cut herself off mid-tirade, her face warm, and watched Vol shuffle forward on the sand. He eventually sat down, arms crossed over his knees.

For a few minutes, Amita watched him. The gentle sea breeze teased his fiery hair. Something about him felt isolated. She slid off Jashik’s back - promptly scowling at the beast when he got up - and approached Vol. She sat down next to him.

Neither of them broke the silence. The wind was chilly, but the sun was warm. Jashik laid down both behind and around them, his tail coiled near Vol’s feet. His body blocked more of the wind, and Amita knew that as the sun beat down on his black scales, the warmer the raptor would become.

_ ‘I should ask him something… this is kinda’ the first time that we have just… been around one another and not been chasing. Well,’ _ she glanced at Vol. His expression was solemn as he stared at the crashing waves that were still a fair distance away,  _ ‘he does the chasing. I do the running.’ _

“How come you’re so solemn?”

Vol’s ears perked up, and he looked at her, “what does that mean?”

Amita flushed, “u-uhm, it means, um, like sad, o-or gloomy, with a little mix of seriousness.”

“You know a lot of words, huh,” he muttered, shifting his gaze back to the ocean. She frowned.

“I like words,” she said, turning her gaze to the ocean as well, “which is funny, cuz I don’t speak properly.”

“You don’t?”

“I drop the ‘ing’ sound on a lot of words that end in i-n-g. Like runnin’. You say it properly though.”

“Running?”

She nodded, “yeah, that’s the proper way to say it.”

“So why do you not say it that way?” he asked. Amita shrugged.

“I dunno. Probably a speech quirk,” she looked at him, “we haven’t spent a lot of time just talkin’ so I dunno if you have any speech quirks.”

Vol laughed, short and soft, “I guess not.”

Silence lingered for another several minutes. The wind picked up, and Amita grabbed her hair in her hand. Against her chest, she felt a familiar warmth; her pendant was heating up. She grasped it on reflex, rubbing the back.

“Do you have parents?” Vol suddenly asked. Amita sat more rigidly, her eyes pinching inward.

“Um… I mean, I  _ have  _ to have parents! I wouldn’t be here otherwise, right?”

Vol pouted, “that’s not what I meant…”

“Why did me sayin’ the village might mind that you were gone for longer make you sad?” she tried asking the question again. Her choice of word had distracted them the first time. Vol hugged his knees closer to his chest.

“... I’m the chieftain’s son,” he mumbled, turning his head away so Amita could no longer see his face, “but when I’m around you, I forget that I am, because everyone else is always reminding me who I am and whose kid I am and… it puts a lot of weight on your shoulders, y’know?”

Amita nibbled on her lip, “oh…”

“Except now that I told you, you’re probably not gonna’ let me forget it either.”

“Um…” she fiddled with her frayed skirt, “okay then, um… what’s your favorite thing to do?”

Vol was taken aback, and he stared at her blankly. Amita continued, her mind racing, “I like to draw things. Whenever I draw Jashik, he takes the drawings, and then sleeps on them. Cuz raptors do that, obviously.”

The boy sputtered on a laugh, and Amita took this encouragement to keep going, “he does! He has a whole pile of drawings of him, and he just sleeps on them! See, he’s huffin’ in agreement too!”

Jashik’s tail wagged a little, “and his tail is waggin’! So you know I’m tellin’ the truth.”

Vol could only seem to nod his head. He was smiling now, and for whatever reason, that was the only thing that mattered to Amita.

“I have a shell collection. And a rock collection. I have lots of pretty things,” she fiddled with her pendant now. It was getting warmer, “I kinda’ wanna’ figure out how to string everything up into, um, bead strings! But I also need beads, and I don’t have any beads. I like the bead strings that the Darkspear have on their huts. I think they’d be prettier with shells.”

“They’d make more noise too,” Vol commented once he had recovered from his laughter, “then everyone would know when someone left a hut.”

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing? Cuz you’d know if someone went in, too.”

“Yeah, I guess that would,” he nodded in agreement, “and uh, I like to make things - like, out of wood. I’ve carved a few totems for my father, and one for my um… mother… b-but! I also like to bind books. I can’t do it that good yet, cuz I’m still learning. I’m getting somewhere though. Chaako uses one of the books I made to write in, and he always puts it out of my reach, so I guess it has special stuff written in it.”

Vol watched her closely as he spoke. She was staring at him intently, as if she were truly interested in what he was saying.

“I hunt, and skin the animals myself - I-I mean, Rokhan is usually with me,” he paused, gauging to see if she would make a comment about that. She didn’t.

“And since he’s usually with me, he helps me. He hasn’t had to help me lately though! I’ve gotten pretty good at doing things myself!”

Amita nodded her head, and before Vol could say anything more, she asked, “what do you guys always decorate for every year? There’s always such big groups of people during that time too. What’s it for?”

“The coming of age celebration?” Vol questioned, and Amita stared blankly at him, her head tilted cutely to one side.

“What’s that?”

Vol’s eyes widened, and eagerness quickly overtook him. This was his chance to talk to her about the celebration:

“When we all reach our fifteenth year, there’s a coming of age celebration, to, well, celebrate our coming of age into adulthood. It lasts for five days, and we do different things every day! The first day we have specially prepared baths, then dress in white, and then jump off a cliff into the ocean. There are uh…” he fumbled for the right words to say, “dye packets sewn into the clothes, and when the new adults jump off the cliff into the water, the dye packets give the clothes splotches of color!”

Amita looked enthralled.

“That explains a lot…” she muttered, and Vol’s heart jumped into his throat.

“We spend the rest of the day feasting, telling stories, wearing special clothes, getting gifts… fun things like that! And on the second day, it’s nothing but fun! A-after we make a tiki mask, of course, um, we gotta’ do that first, but then we feast, and dance, and sing and play music for the whole day!”

His excitement was rubbing off on her, and she wiggled in place, “oh! That sounds enchanting! And appealing!”

Hurriedly Vol continued, his tone becoming more serious, “the third day is the beginning of our rite of passage.”

“Rite of passage?” she repeated, mostly to herself. Vol nodded, watching her eagerly.

“Yes. We’ll get split up into groups - er, I mean, the new adults will get split up into groups,” he scratched the back of his neck nervously. He should be more careful with his wording, “and then they’ll spend the whole day in the jungle, fending for themselves, lasting the night - that runs into the fourth day. Sometimes… sometimes some of them don’t make it back.”

Amita’s ears drooped.

“The rite of passage can be… scary. Most of us are so used to village life that we don’t know any better in the jungles,” he couldn’t help chuckling, “I think you’d outshine all of us in that regard, moonlight.”

Her cheeks reddened, and she pouted. He noticed that she fumbled with the pendant around her neck, “u-uhm… thank you.”

“When some of the new adults don’t return, we have a special dance and song for them. I think I’ve heard chaako refer to it as a funeral rite. After we’ve had the time to mourn, then we’ll go back to feasting and celebrating! And if all the new adults make it back, well, then there’s  _ way _ more to celebrate! And face painting. Some of the new adults use that time to come up with a warpaint look that they like, that they’ll wear into battle from then onward.”

She nodded her head, and had stopped fiddling with her pendant. Her hands pressed into the sand as she leaned toward Vol, and he took a moment to observe the pendant in detail. It was carved to look like Gonk, the raptor Loa, and small white gemstones were in place of the carved eyes. The craftsmanship was beautiful.

_ ‘I feel like I’ve seen that craftsmanship around… _ ’ Vol furrowed his brow, then quickly smiled at Amita.

“On the last day, the new adults relax, and enjoy their last full day of freedom before they are properly assigned to their tribal roles. I mean, we learn a lot about the ins and outs as little kids - like we are right now - but we haven’t been assigned official roles yet.”

“What do you mean? I thought you said you hunt?” Amita asked, tilting her head at him.

“Ah, I uh, I go hunting in my spare time. Y’know, when I’m not trying to catch  _ you _ , moonlight.”

Amita bristled, digging her fingers into the sand before she huffed, “I’m not the one who decided he was gonna’ chase me all over the jungle, sunshine!”

“Hah! You’re right,” he had half a mind to wrap a hand around her wrist, but thought better of it, “I think you’d enjoy the celebration.”

“It sounds fun…” she settled back on the sand, and leaned against Jashik, staring wistfully out at the sea. Vol tentatively leaned against Jashik as well, and though the raptor raised his head to peer at Vol, he made no sound - or movement - of protest. Vol relaxed.

“It  _ is _ fun.”

“I saw you dancin’ one day,” she muttered. Vol blushed.

“W-well I hope I didn’t uh disappoint, or anything,” he laughed nervously,  _ ‘gods!! Why does she always have to be watching!?’ _

“You looked like you were enjoyin’ yourself, so I dunno. I don’t really know what’s good dancin’ and what isn’t.”

Vol nodded his head, still blushing. His eyes shifted to the raptor they were leaning against, and he patted Jashik’s side, “what about this ol’ guy? Is he your pet?”

He was familiar with the sadness that surrounded her as Amita shook her head, “no…”

“Then…?” Vol urged gently. Amita folded her arms over her knees, and leaned her head against them.

“Muuka’s.”

_ ‘Her mother’s?’ _ Vol blinked, and peered at Jashik again. The raptor was huffing softly - then he nudged his snout against Amita. A giggle escaped her, though it was short-lived.

“Was… your muuka a hunter?” he wondered, “I mean… she must have been, since you’re so good at navigating the jungle, and living on your own.”

Amita simply nodded her head, “yeah.”

Before he could coax more information out of her, Amita fixed him with a steady gaze, “what about your muuka?”

“Ah… my muuka isn’t around either,” Vol said, scratching the back of his neck, “so… I know what it’s like to miss a mother.”

She had perked up at that, and it encouraged Vol to tell her more, “my muuka… she got on a boat, against chaako’s wishes. She was always um, what he called a spitfire. She was the temper to his calm. They fit real well together, and chaako had never really considered a mate until she came storming into his life… uh,” he fiddled with his hair, “I have her hair.”

Amita scooted closer to him. Her interest was clear, and Vol went on, “a-as I was saying, she got on a boat with a handful of others. And now she’s… gone. They were supposed to come back, but… they never did.”

Amita’s hand found his, and his gaze jerked to her, away from the ocean he had been staring wistfully at.

“My muuka was supposed to come back too. She didn’t, but,” she lowered both of their hands to the sand, and turned her head away to look at the raptor, “Jashik did. I like to think that maybe… maybe she sent him back, so that I would know she didn’t… abandon me.”

Vol had to strain to hear the last phrase. Her grip on his hand was loose, and Vol curled his fingers more tightly around hers. Amita turned her head back to him, eyes bright.

“I like to think that my muuka is out there, terrorizing the high seas,” Vol whispered, pointing at the rolling waves, “she was chaako’s spitfire, after all. She would  _ never _ go down without a fight. Muuka was a priestess,” he snorted her, giving Amita a lop-sided smile, “but you wouldn’t know that if you saw her fight. You’d think she was a warrior, she was so ferocious!”

A smile began to stretch over Amita’s lips. Vol was relieved to see it.

“Chaako is pretty sure I got my magic from her,” Vol went on.

Amita giggled, “opposite of me! Muuka is certain I got my magic from chaako!”

A giggle escaped him as well, “we’re so similar, but so different at the same time.”

As more laughter bubbled past Amita’s lips, Vol finally noticed that the sun was steadily making its way closer to the rocking waves; soon, the golden orb would be rocked to sleep, and the stars would come out to dazzle the sky.

He desperately wanted to ask if Amita would come to the village with him, because there was still a lot of time between now and their  _ own _ coming of age celebration, but Jashik shifted. Both children scrambled to their feet, letting go of the other’s hand as the raptor got up. Jashik shook his whole body to rid himself of the sand that clung to his stomach, and legs.

Without being prompted, Amita quickly climbed onto Jashik’s back. Vol hesitated for a moment, and Amita glanced at the spot behind her, before looking back down at Vol and raising a brow. With a sigh, he expertly leveraged himself off Jashik’s large thigh, and slid into his place behind her. She noted with some amusement that this time, Vol wrapped his arms around her waist without a word of complaint.

“I better get you home,” she muttered; Vol simply nodded against her shoulder. She wondered if he actually wanted this time to end,  _ ‘because if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t think I want it to end. I think I’d like to stay on the beach and talk to him forever. Why couldn’t you stay awake for longer, sleepy sun?’ _

_ You know that if you went to the village with him, you could. _

Gonk’s voice always caught her off-guard these days. Amita twisted her fingers in the ropes around Jashik’s neck as the raptor sped off down the beach. The ride was spent in relative silence, save for Vol’s steady breathing. He was leaning against her heavily, head resting on her shoulder, and a fond smile crossed Amita’s lips,  _ ‘looks like sunshine is sleepy too. _ ’

She couldn’t help the cheerful swell in her chest. It had been a long,  _ long _ time since she’d actually spent  _ time _ with another troll.

And here they were, riding together on a raptor. Not chasing each other, not berating each other around a tree - no, they were physically enjoying each other’s company.

Having a friend was  _ lovely _ .

Vol awoke when the chill of the seawind brought shivers to his body. He blinked his eyes blearily as he raised his head from Amita’s shoulder. He yawned.

“Mmnn, sorry moonlight, fell asleep…?” he’d expected her to, well,  _ respond _ , or have some kind of reaction. The sun had finally made it to the ocean’s waiting arms, half of it already disappearing to its watery bed. Loa, he’d been gone a  _ long time _ .

_ <You gave us all quite a scare, son of Sen’jin.> _

He started at the voice in his head. It was unmistakable. Heat crept up Vol’s neck.

“... do you know who that is, sunshine? Jashik won’t go any closer…”

Vol peered into the distance. He swallowed nervously, shifting his gaze to the rolling ocean. The dark figure ahead was so  _ obviously _ Deonte. Furthermore, if Sen’jin had sent out the tribe’s most prominent witch doctor, it meant that he had already sent out Rokhan and the other shadow hunters, and they had turned up with nothing.

He  _ had  _ to go home.

“Dee--....?”

The young man found himself… silenced? Why would Deonte silence him?

Vol’s molten eyes shifted to Amita. She was regarding the man in the distance with trepidation, if the fact that her ears were pinned back was anything to go by - but she had perked up at the first syllable Vol had said. Her hand appeared to tighten instinctively around her pendant - and Vol was startled,  _ ‘why is she holding it away from her chest? Does it… hurt?’ _

Vol looked back up at Deonte. The man appeared to have his gaze focused on Amita, not the chieftain’s son. A bead of sweat rolled down Vol’s forehead.

_ ‘Why would Deonte…’ _

He had recognized the craftsmanship of the raptor pendant. A callous laugh nagged at the back of Vol’s mind; he knew this voice as Dambala, and when the Loa spoke, it was a gravelly hiss:

_ That man has always had a fondness for raptors. Black ones in particular. This one isn’t sure what to make of him anymore _ .

Eyes widening with realization, Vol jerked his arms away from Amita’s waist. This startled her.

“E-eh um!? Vol?”

Deonte’s gaze was palpable, and in his haste to get off Jashik’s back, Vol fell. The raptor released an alarmed cry, stamping his feet as Vol rolled a little ways down the beach.

“S-sorry, Amita! I uh. I gotta’ go,” his heart thumped in his chest. Now he was  _ unsilenced. _ Fantastic. Vol was young, but he wasn’t a fool. Deonte didn’t want his name to be said.

“He uh, my father sent him to find me, most likely - actually,  _ definitely _ sent him to find me,” Vol scrambled to his feet, face and ears hot from embarrassment and frustration and nervousness. He was no stranger to the tales. Deonte had been at the chieftain’s side since Vol could remember, and Sen’jin often praised the man’s skill. The winds and waves and even the trees bent to Deonte’s will.

And really, seeing Amita, and remembering how Deonte looked up close, the resemblance was unmistakable.

Especially the  _ eyes _ .

Vol shook his head, offering Amita a shaky smile, “I’ll uh, I’ll seeya, moonlight.”

“Ah oh-okay sunshine!”

Amita stared after him in bewilderment, her gaze shifting from his back to Deonte - or so Vol assumed, as he was too busy making his way toward Deonte to confirm if it were true. The older troll dipped his head to Vol.

Then stared at Amita with a longing in his expression that only a father could muster. Not a second after Vol reached his side did Deonte turn away, one large hand lightly pressed to Vol’s upper back.

“Your father is deeply worried. It has been a while since I’ve seen him pace so,” Deonte said once they were a fair distance away. Vol’s stomach turned itself in knots. Something about Deonte waiting until the pair of them were assuredly out of Amita’s earshot didn’t sit well with him. He pushed back against Deonte’s guiding hand, but only earned himself a chuckle as the sand beneath Vol’s feet shifted to propel him slowly forward.

“Why’d you silence me,” Vol asked flatly, annoyed that it was difficult to resist the shifting sands.

Deonte didn’t answer him right away, his expression one of careful consideration.

“She can’t know.”

“Why. You’re her father, aren’t you?”

Deonte’s hand went stiff against Vol’s back. Vol continued against his better judgement, “she has your eyes. There’s only one other troll in our tribe with eyes as green as hers, and that’s  _ you _ . Why can’t she  _ know _ it’s you?”

“She recognized me,” Deonte said, and Vol hated how his voice was impossible to garner anything from. Deonte was an expert at keeping his emotions under wraps.

“You’re dodging my question!”

“Vol.”

The boy tensed. Deonte had stopped. The village was barely visible in the distance.

“You cannot tell her.”

“Why!?” Vol demanded, anger blossoming between his eyes, “she’s out there in the jungle _alone,_ when you’re in the damn village! She should be there, _with_ **_you!_** ”

Deonte’s carefully crafted mask cracked. Vol saw the distress on the older man’s features as he crouched to one knee and grasped Vol by the biceps.

“I know. I know she is out there alone, and I know she should be in the village with me, or at the very,  _ very _ least, I should be in the jungle with her. My position does not grant me sway over the elders. Amita would have been cast out with her mother at the time she was conceived, no matter what I did.”

Vol glared at the sand. His upper lip twitched in agitation. The elders had only recently begun to see the women in the tribe in a different light; only recently started seeing them more as their own persons than as prizes to be won and kept. Vol knew that his generation was one of the luckier ones, to be born in a time when they could freely choose what they wanted to do, and not be forced into one role or another based on their gender.

An’jen, he knew, often butted heads with her father, who  _ was _ one of the village elders, and vehemently despised the fact that his eldest daughter was behaving so rebelliously by his standards.

“I can’t bring her into the village myself,” Deonte’s grip on Vol’s arms tightened, “but you  _ can _ .”

Vol looked up at Deonte in surprise. Deonte’s smile was hopeful, if tired, “I have been helping her in any way I am able. The only man I trusted with these tasks was Rokhan.”

A half-laugh escaped Vol at that,  _ ‘yeah. Rokhan mentioned that Amita spooked easily, and he’s been following me when I track her. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s actually caught her already.’ _

“And I know she deserves far better than I’ve been giving her, and I’m not going to stand here and say that I’ve been trying, because I haven’t been trying hard enough. I have not been the father she needs.”

Vol nodded his head sharply, looking at the ground again. Deonte sighed heavily, and got back to his feet, “I’m aware that I’m putting this onto your shoulders, when you already have enough to bear.”

“I  _ want _ her to come to the village,” Vol muttered, kicking at the sand. Deonte set his hand on Vol’s head for a moment, then dropped his hand to the boy’s upper back again.

“We best go the rest of the way.”

Vol went without resistance. The village came into sight, and Vol’s ears flicked down when he saw the large group of people waiting at the edge.

He had forgotten to ask how Deonte had found him, and Vol kicked himself internally, because it was likely he’d not get this chance again anytime soon.

“VOL!”

Vol was winded upon impact when Zalazane threw himself against his friend.

“Atch, Zal--”

“Stupid stupid _ stupid _ !”

Vol winced when Zalazane dug his blunt fingernails into Vol’s back - and to add more guilt to Vol’s conscience, he could feel the smaller male’s frame shaking with wet hiccups. Vol tentatively hugged his friend back, uttering an apology under his breath.

“Don’t be so worried,” Vol muttered while his other friends gathered around, “I just… I just got a little lost, that’s all.”

“A  _ little lost!? _ ” Vanira snapped, glaring at him. Vol frowned, looking away, but anywhere he looked to try and find some solace from the mostly tearful gazes of his friends only led him to look at other faces that were just as concerned. Deonte had already slipped away to get Sen’jin.

“You’ve been gone for  _ hours _ Vol! The sun is practically  _ gone! _ That’s not a  _ little lost! _ We thought--” Vanira cut herself off mid tirade, shifting her gaze to the ground. A familiar hand came to rest on Vol’s shoulder. He deflated.

“Chaako…”

“Come,” was all Sen’jin said before turning away. Vol had to get Voldreka, and Nortet’s help in escaping Zalazane’s hold. The young witch doctor clutched at the air when Vol was finally able to get out of his grasp, and it filled Vol’s chest with a pain he tried to ignore. Vanira moved quickly to comfort Zalazane as Vol followed his father further into the village, head hung low.

Loa, he’d not meant to worry them that much. He’d not meant to  _ scare _ Zalazane like that--

“OW!” he yelped when a blunt object was brought down sharply over his head. It throbbed, of course, but the blow wasn’t hard enough to cause him any lasting pain.

Still, he looked up at Sen’jin with a pout on his lips and tears in his eyes. Sen’jin’s expression was stern, his fist tight around his staff.

“Sorry…” Vol muttered, looking off to the side. Sen’jin sighed heavily.

“You gave me a scare, Vol.”

“Sorry.”

“You know I don’t like it when you go off on your own.”

“I’m  _ sorry _ .”

“You’re the last memory I have of--”

“I said  _ I’m  _ **_sorry_ ** ,” Vol hissed, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. Sen’jin rubbed the back of his neck, muttering under his breath. Vol glared at the sand.

As he had explained to Amita, Vol liked to think that his mother was traversing the high seas, alive and well, making her name one that struck fear into the hearts of others.

His father, on the other hand, had a far more pessimistic view on the matter.

“Y’know I’m almost old enough to go off on my own anyway,” Vol muttered in defiance. Sen’jin was quiet, and so Vol felt compelled to elaborate, “you can’t protect me forever, chaako. Someday you’re gonna’ have to let me really learn from my mistakes.”

Sen’jin scowled, and grabbed Vol by the bicep. He jerked Vol into the hut, and set him to cleaning up the floor.

“That day isn’t today, Vol. You’ll stay where I can see you over the next week, and I might reconsider.”

Vol’s face was hot, but he nodded his head sharply instead of trying to argue.

It was better not to tempt his father’s temper anymore than he already had.

Time passed slowly while Vol sorted out his father’s things. He stacked books, smoothed papers, furled up open scrolls. The scrolls he placed in one of the taller woven grass baskets in the corner. Feather quills were cleaned, dried, and placed in an old glass that Sen’jin no longer used. Potion vials were organized by the color of their contents, as were ink pots.

By the time Vol was done, evening had already fallen. He left the hut, heading straight toward the village centre, and stayed in his father’s sight like he had been commanded to. He ate only because he had to, not because he had any sort of appetite.

And even though he  _ had _ to stay in Sen’jin’s sight, it didn’t mean he couldn’t play games with the other kids. He could still have fun. He could still  _ enjoy _ himself.

He played games with his friends until Sen’jin ushered him back to the hut.

Vol’s sleep was restless. He tossed and turned, mind replaying scenarios and plans over in his head, even if he couldn’t execute them as soon as he would like to.

In his first dream,  _ he tirelessly chased the moon, even as she stayed out of his reach. No matter how long his arms grew, or how far his rays extended, he could never seem to catch her. Sometimes the stars got in his way - _ and then, he awoke. He stared blearily at the dark ceiling of the hut, Sen’jin’s snoring Vol’s only company.

He groaned softly, and flopped onto his other side. Vol grumbled under his breath.

_ This time he raced through the jungles. His legs were longer than he remembered, as was his reach. Her hair twisted and waved away from his fingers as he chased her through the underbrush, like he always did. _

_ Vol lost her when she shifted into a cobra, but he did not relent. Sunlight glinted off her dark scales and he was back to chasing her again. He drew comfort from how his feet pounded against the soil of the jungle, following her tracks. She threw her body up against a tree, and just barely escaped his grasp once again. _

_ When she shifted out of her cobra form, she stumbled. She didn’t yelp, or cry out. He caught her by the arm, and  _ **_that_ ** _ was when she gasped. He wasted no time in pulling her into a tight embrace. Her dark hair fluttered, teased by the wind, until it finally settled over his arms. She hardly embraced him back, but he could feel her hands press tentatively to his ribs. _

_ “You belong with us.” _

_ She shook her head against his shoulder, and Vol tightened his grip around her. He refused to let her slip out of his hold, not when he had finally caught her, not when that meant he could bring her to the village where she would be safe. Where he could make sure she was protected. _

“You belong… with us…?” Vol muttered groggily. Light flicked over his eyes; he bolted upright on his mat, staring straight ahead, heart pounding and breath quick.

Sen’jin still slept on his own mat, his snores soft against the backdrop of gulls.

Vol pressed a hand to his chest.

There was a warmth along his body where he had held Amita, as if Vol had truly caught her.

* * *

_ The creeping blackness was back. It was more distracting today than it had been the few times before, but Amita was still able to bring her attention back to Lessa’oh when the elder druid poked her in the forehead. _

_ “A little distracted today, are we, young Amita?” _

_ “Only a lil’…” Amita pouted, kicking her foot, “wat we be doin’ again?” _

_ “Pliés,” Lessa’oh said as she assumed first position, and then let her legs bend at the knees, “though this is a demi plié. A grand plié, well, that’s like this.” _

_ Amita frowned deeply as Lessa’oh bent her legs enough that her thighs were practically parallel to the floor, “dat be lookin’ like it be hurtin’... I don’ tink I can be doin’ dat.” _

_ “Nonsense! You’re very good at this!” the night elf exclaimed, “it’s one of the most important basic steps you need to know! Not only does every jump begin and end with a plié, but it’s a transition step from one move to the next. It will help strengthen your leg muscles too, so you can do so many other things!” _

_ “Nnn,” Amita grumbled, and made a first attempt, “okay… I be tryin’.” _

_ The blackness that had caught Amita’s eye moments before did not return. _

_ Once she was done practicing her dancing with Lessa’oh, Amita took thirty minutes to rest. Ysiel and Thisalee came to join her, one on either side. Amita was still amused at how much taller she was than both of them. _

_ “Did you learn anything new from Naralex?” Ysiel asked, leaning her head against Amita’s arm. The troll nodded her head. _

_ “Yah! He be sayin’ dat I c’n’t be showin’ you guys yet,” Amita lamented, “says dat I need ta make sure my body be all good ‘n’ strong ‘fore I be showin’ ya.” _

_ “Aww! Is he worried that we’ll hurt you?” Thisalee piped up, “because  _ **_I’d_ ** _ never hurt you!!” _

_ Ysiel rolled her eyes, “never say never, Thisalee.” _

_ “That statement is a contradiction!” Thisalee yelped, “you said never say never, which you said you should never say!” _

_ A darker purple rose to Ysiel’s cheeks. Amita could only laugh as her friends bickered with each other over her back. _

_ “Girls, girls,” Amita tsked, catching both of their attention, “it don’t be sometin’ to be gettin’ all upset over.” _

_ “But she can’t tell me to never say never when she says never to say never!” _

_ “That’s the way the phrase  _ **_is!_ ** _ ” _

_ “So, Thisalee shouldn’ be sayin’ never, cuz never be a finality, an’ you can’t be sure if you won’ ever be hurtin’ someone,” Amita chirped as she stretched into a sitting position, “dat’s all. Never be such a  _ **_final_ ** _ word, kinda’ like always.” _

_ Thisalee pouted while Ysiel gestured to Amita, “that’s what it means! You silly egg!” _

_ “I’m not an egg!!” Thisalee screeched before pouncing on Ysiel. The other night elf shifted into her cat form as well, and while they rolled around on the grass, Amita got up. She had seen Naralex, and figured it would be best if she followed him. _

_ “I gotta’ go girls! Don’ be too rough!” _

_ She pranced off despite Thisalee’s complaints. Naralex hadn’t waited for her, but Amita thought nothing off it. She shifted into her cobra form; it was easier to track him this way, especially if he was hiding from her. _

_ Oddly, she soon discovered he wasn’t. Confused, and curious, Amita slithered along until she found her teacher. _

_ He was apparently trying to sneak up on Lessa’oh. Amita’s dance teacher seemed none the wiser, not until Naralex grabbed her from behind by the hips. She let out a startled gasp, and spun around in his arms. _

_ “Naralex!” she laughed, grabbing his face in her hands, “you rascal!” _

_ Amita shrunk back into the bushes. Her gut told her she shouldn’t be watching. Her mind stubbornly wished to have its curiosity sated. _

_ Lessa’oh began to shuffle backward, and Naralex followed her. Her eyes were half-closed, and Amita wasn’t sure she understood the expression at all. Naralex looked utterly enthralled - and then, Lessa’oh seemed to playfully push him away. His smile grew wider, and Lessa’oh walked her fingers up his chest, before she disappeared behind some trees. Naralex was eager to follow. _

_ Amita was confused by what she saw, and she hurriedly slithered back to the main clearing of the Dream. She shifted into a troll, and walked over to the large pool of water in the middle. _

_ Malfurion wasn’t too far, having taken his place on the large circular stone that he tended to teach classes from. Her druid mates were paying close attention, and Amita leaned over to scoop up a handful of water and splash it on her face,  _ ‘I don’t get it. Why does my face feel hot? What were Naralex and Lessa’oh doing?’

_ She chose to sneak over to Malfurion’s class, and took a seat next to Ysiel. Clintar scooted over until he was sitting on Amita’s other side, and for a while, Amita listened intently as Malfurion talked to her druid mates about their bear forms. _

_ “Now, as you know, Clintar has already mastered his bear form. Clintar, if you would?” Malfurion gestured to the spot next to him. Clintar pouted, but got up from his spot - it was immediately taken by Thisalee - and shifted into his bear form for the class. Malfurion began detailing that the most dangerous aspect of the bear was it’s long claws, and strong jaw. _

_ “Be sure that when you’re fighting, you use your claws, and jaw as often as you can. Furthermore, as a bear, you have more weight. Don’t be afraid to literally throw your weight around, as it were. Charging in your bear form is easier than in your cat form, and, if you need to protect others, the bear form is the better option. It is more of a guardian than the cat is.” _

_ The class muttered in understanding, and Malfurion beamed, “good! Now, let’s all go through our bear forms again, shall we?” _

_ As everyone got to their feet, Amita hugged her knees to her chest. She knew that it was pointless for her to sit in on this class, as she and Naralex had to have private sessions. One by one her friends all shifted: Liliandra had the most difficulty turning into a bear, and her pout deepened comically as her druid mates couldn’t help but laugh. Amita could hardly contain her own snorts. _

_ “Stop laughing!!!” the girl yelped, hastily trying to shift back. Malfurion quickly intervened. _

_ “Liliandra,” he spoke softly, “if you shift while you’re upset, you could hurt yourself.” _

_ Her cheeks darkened; Malfurion gently guided her through changing back, “do your arms first-- good, now your legs. There you go.” _

_ She twisted her hands in her robes. Amita hugged her legs tighter, muttering an apology under her breath. _

_ “And you, Amita?” _

_ Her ears perked up, and the next thing she knew, all of her druid mates were looking at her expectantly. Amita’s cheeks reddened, “um… teacher Naralex be sayin’... w-well…” _

_ “That you’re not ready?” Malfurion asked; Amita shook her head. _

_ “N-no… I c’n’t be gettin’ my belly scales ta form properly, so he be worried dat I could be gettin’ hurt.” _

_ “Today we’re only showing, not doing any practicing,” Malfurion assured her, his eyes glowing brighter, “I’ve personally been very eager to see this new form Naralex has shown you. He didn’t even tell  _ **_me_ ** _ anything about it.” _

_ Amita snorted a giggle at how miffed Malfurion sounded. She fiddled with her pendant, looking between all her druid mates. They had curious, excited expressions. _

_ Taking a breath, Amita got to her feet, “okay. I’ll be showin’ you.” _

_ She wasn’t used to shifting in front of such a large audience, but she concentrated on herself. She relaxed as her spine lengthened to form a tail; her lungs and ribs expanded to mimic a hydra’s barrel chest. Her heavy paws sunk into the grass, and with a shake of her head, her neck stretched out. The horns, spines, and armored scales came last, draping over Amita’s back like a reinforced blanket. _

_ Amita opened her eyes to a mix of expressions. A few of her druid mates had hidden behind Malfurion, whose expression Amita couldn’t read. She sat back on her rump, and raised a paw to her chest. The skin was still soft, but stiffer in parts. She nodded her head,  _ ‘okay good. I’m starting to get it with the tougher skin on my belly.’

_ “... a hydra,” Malfurion muttered. Amita wasn’t sure if it was in awe or disbelief; either way, when she looked up at him, he was nodding his head in approval, “Naralex has made an excellent choice, as far as tenacious creatures go. The hydra is a perfect parallel for the bear.” _

_ Amita released the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Having Malfurion’s approval took a weight off her shoulders she hadn’t known was there, and Amita shifted back into her troll form. It took her quite some time to take her troll form back on. She hoped that with more practice, she would be able to shift as smoothly from hydra to troll form, like she did with her cobra form. Malfurion walked over to her once she was done shifting. _

_ “Though I could see what you meant about the belly scales. I suppose it’s more difficult because you aren’t drawing any molecules from your hair to also act as armored plates on your stomach?” _

_ “Oh…” Amita pursed her lips, “I didn’ tink ‘bout doin’ dat! I’ll try dat next tim--” _

_ “Amita!! I’m so sorry!” _

_ She jolted as Naralex came to a stop next to her. He was leaning against his knees, panting for breath, “I lost track of time.” _

_ “Oh, dat’s okay! I jus’ be listenin’ ta shan’do,” she pointed at the elder night elf, “I be showin’ him my hydra form.” _

_ Naralex paled, and looked up at Malfurion, “o-oh you did!” _

_ Malfurion raised a brow, “I trusted your judgement, Naralex. I am pleased to see that my faith in you was not misplaced. You made a good choice, especially given the fact that Druids of the Fang are rare enough as it is.” _

_ Naralex slumped to the ground, breathing a sigh of relief, “oh… oh good. I’m glad. I would have run it by you first, but I-- n-nevermind. We’ll discuss that later, as I’ve found some other forms I think will work for Amita to try and change into. For now, I’ll take her off your hands.” _

_ He reached for Amita’s hand, and she instinctively took it, “I apologize again, Amita. I know that there isn’t much time left before you wake up from the Dream.” _

_ Amita allowed Naralex to guide her to a different spot, still within sight of her druid mates, but out of earshot, at the tip of the large pool. _

_ “Were you able to make your belly scales stronger?” _

_ “A lil’ bit. Shan’do suggested dat I be tryna’ pull molecules from my hair ta my chest, ta make dem tougher, like de scales on my back.” _

_ Naralex chuckled, “that’s a good suggestion! I’m not sure why I didn't think of it.” _

_ “Mebbe cuz ya jus’ did it?” Amita wondered, and Naralex laughed this time. _

_ “I suppose you’re right about that.” _

_ Silence fell between them. Amita looked at the water, then the grass, then Naralex - who was steadily watching her - then she blushed, and looked back at the grass, which she shortly began to pick at. _

_ “... Amita?” _

‘Should I ask?’ _ she chewed on her lip, “um… I be havin’ a question.” _

_ “Yes?” _

_ “Um… wat were you ‘n’ Lessa’oh doin’?” _

_ Naralex’s eyes widened, “o-oh, did you…?” _

_ Amita nodded her head, then shook her head, then had the most heat she had ever felt flood her face, “I-I-I j-jus’, I thought you be comin’ ta get me, s-so I be followin’ you, b-but den you didn’ be hidin’ from me like usual, so I jus’ followed you, a-an’ all I be seein’ was, um, she be goin’ into de trees, an’ den you be followin’ her, an’ den I left.” _

_ “Ooooh… oh goodness,” Naralex breathed; Amita wasn’t sure why he sounded relieved, and he gave her a sheepish smile, “we were… flirting.” _

_ “Flirtin’?” Amita repeated, tilting her head to the side, “wat dat be meanin’?” _

_ “It means to…” he began, then his expression shifted to one of thought. He mouthed a few words to himself, and once he decided on a definition, he looked back down at Amita, “it means to act amorously without serious intentions, like, playful. I-I suppose you don’t know what ‘amorously’ means either do you?” _

_ Amita shook her head. Naralex groaned into his hands, then exclaimed, “I’m an eight thousand year old elf!!! I should be better at this!!” _

_ Amita couldn’t stop a stream of giggles at that. _

_ With a deep breath, Naralex continued his explanation “amorously means to express interest in someone, especially sexual and  _ **_we_ ** _ ,” he held a finger to Amita’s lips when she made to ask him what ‘sexual’ meant, “will talk about such things when you are not on the verge of waking up from a Dream. Regardless, flirting is when you express an interest in someone that you would like to get to know on a more… romantic level, than on a friendship level.” _

_ “.... teacher.” _

_ “Yes.” _

_ “Do you be like-likin’ Lessa’oh?” _

_ “Yes.” _

_ Amita wiggled in place, “oooh!! So you be flirtin’ wit’ someone dat you be like-likin’!” _

_ “You can also flirt for fun, but I don’t recommend you do that,” Naralex laughed, reaching out to pinch Amita’s cheek, “next time I’ll be sure to get you on time so that you don’t see anything that you don’t need to see.” _

_ Amita giggled, and got up to hug Naralex. He hugged her back. _

_ “Have a good rest of your evening, Amita.” _

_ “You too, teacher.” _

Darkness surrounded Amita for a time. In the distance, she could hear Gonk singing his song - but it was soft, as though he were trying to lull her to sleep.

Time passed. The sun’s warmth touched Amita’s face, and after grumbling for a few minutes, Amita stretched awake. She took an hour to practice all the forms and positions she had been taught so far by Lessa’oh, just outside the cave. The plie was still the most difficult form she had been taught so far. Jashik watched her, his head resting against a boulder nearby.

“Okay! Time for breakfast?” she chirped, looking at Jashik. He chuffed at her, and she joined him in her cobra form, following Naralex’s instruction to continue practicing strikes with her tail. While none of the blows were strong enough to kill a tiger cub, Amita was delighted to find that she could easily snap a crab’s shell with one swift blow.

Hopefully, this meant she would be able to daze a murloc. She was  _ greatly _ tempted to stalk one and see if she could pick it off, but… no. She could continue focusing on sparring with her druid mates, when she was in the dream, instead of taking the risk and getting more than what she might bargain for.

Jashik pulled her out of her thoughts by dropping seaweed on her head. A startled hiss escaped Amita, and soon she was lashing at Jashik’s ankle, chasing him through the water.

Then she was being flung through the air by him, frozen by shock, until he released an enraged bellow. Amita caught a glimpse of him charging at a figure, head lowered, and then water was obscuring her vision.

Amita shifted back into her troll form out of fright, sea water rushing up her nostrils. It  _ burned _ . Her head broke the surface of the water. She sputtered.

Scrambling for the beach, Amita made a mad-dash to her hidden stash under the same outcropping of rocks where she had gotten her first crate of goodies from - still sputtering with sea water. She hastily wrapped the woven sinew bag around her hips, ears flicking as she listened to Jashik’s battlecries and the telltale snarls of a naga.

Heart pounding in her chest, Amita doubled back to where Jashik was. The naga was brandishing a trident, and her raptor companion already sported several red cuts over his chest, and legs. She skid to a halt, focusing magic in her hands. She wove her arms through the air, exactly as Naralex had taught her. The naga noticed too late.

Roots bound him in place, and he released such an angered roar that Amita cried out in fear. She stumbled back, falling onto her rump.

“Juh-ah--Jah- _ JASHIK _ !” she screamed. He was already halfway to her, and Amita scrambled to her feet. She grabbed onto his arm, running alongside him until she was able to jump onto a rock; she kicked off it and onto Jashik’s back.

One hand glowed with green magic, and Amita passed her hand along Jashik’s neck. Spectral leaves and vines coiled around the raptor’s body, rushing over his injuries. The smallest of the cuts closed immediately, but the large gash on his chest stubbornly refused to stitch itself shut. Amita frowned.

Jashik came to a slow walk near a clearing that Amita frequented. She slid off his back. Immediately he sunk to the ground, sighing, and Amita hurriedly looked around the bases of the trees. Sure enough, she found some silverleaf.

With furrowed brow, Amita harvested the herbs, plucking them delicately from the stems. Only the leaves of the plant were useful for ink - but she knew she could make a weak healing salve if she mixed the silverleaf with peacebloom.

Thankfully, she had some peacebloom in the little pouch on her leg.

“Ehh… I guess I’ll need to let ‘em dry for a bit,” she sighed, setting the peacebloom out on a nearby rock, “just wait a little, okay Jashik? I’ll make somethin’ for your big cut!”

Jashik crooned at her, and she smiled. As she stood she dusted off her thighs, she opted to spend a few minutes leaning against Jashik’s side. It was the part of his body that her magic had reached the fastest, and thus, was mostly healed. She couldn’t help but feel horribly inadequate.

Amita raked her fingers through her hair, and released a frustrated sound, “ugh!! I really  _ really _ need to practice the other magic more!! Like… like harnessin’ the power of the moon, and the sun, so I can blast nagas with it!! And healing!” she frowned deeply, pulling her hands away from her hair.

Thinking of how Naralex had begun teaching her the basics of what he referred to as the balance that druids tapped into - on top of teaching her how to shift into a hydra - and how many of those spells revolved around the use of the sun, drew her thoughts, of course, to her Sunshine.

Wait.

_ Her _ Sunshine?

Amita jumped up from her spot next to Jashik so quickly that the raptor jolted, then immediately grumbled. Amita muttered a string of “sorrys” under her breath.

The peacebloom were finally dry enough for her to mash them together with the silverleaf. She’d have to improvise on bandages until they made it back to the cave. The big leaves from the low palms nearby would have to suffice. From letters exchanged with Deonte, she had learned how to make twine from palm bark.

She patted the salve on Jashik’s worse cuts. His muscles twitched as she applied the mixture. Wrapping the broad leaves around his injuries and tying them in place was a tedious task, but Amita forced herself to do it.

_ ‘I  _ **_could_ ** _ just use entanglin’ roots, but that won’t help me when I don’t have the… the mana to use that spell,’ _ she huffed, twisting the twine into one last knot before she stepped back to admire her work.

It would hold, for now. Jashik faithfully carried her back to the cave, and Amita was pleased to find that only one makeshift leaf bandage had fallen off during the journey.

The next few days were spent practicing her magic techniques - and of course, sparring with her druid mates.

Lessa’oh was certain to make sure Jhordis knew of her dancing progress. Amita slowly began to memorize the short little routine Lessa’oh had been tasked to teach her. The young troll druidess had shown some of the dance to Naralex, and though she had forgotten a few steps, he praised her efforts.

  
The gracefulness and poise of ballet began to worm its way into her combat style, even when she was focused on ducking, weaving, and striking in her cobra form. Her ability to heal had steadily improved as she focused on it, and she was able to heal a fawn’s broken leg while in the Dream.

By the end of the week, however, Amita had grown worried.

Jashik’s wounds had healed - that was not her worry. She had gotten more practice with her healing magic, on top of her balance magic, and had increased her knowledge of herbs, and the different potions and inks she could make with them, with both Naralex’s hands on teaching, and Deonte’s written words. That was not her worry either.

She had not seen Vol over the entire course of the week. Not even when she had slithered on down to the village on the second last day of the week, wondering what he’d gotten up to.

Maybe she’d gotten him into trouble?

Maybe… he had been hurt, and was busy recovering?

That evening, her sleep was restless at the very thought that he had been hurt in some way. Amita stared at the ceiling of her cave, brows furrowed, lips pouting. It was still light enough outside for her to go and see...

_ ‘Okay, today, I’ll go to check again, and if he isn’t there…’ _ Amita halted in her movements, staring at the various streams of smoke rising from the sprawling beach village,  _ ‘if he isn’t there…’ _

_ ‘What? You’ll just waltz right on in?’ _ her cynical thoughts wormed their way to the forefront of her mind,  _ ‘walk right in, as a troll, or as a snake? Try to pass as one of them, or end up as food? As a pet? Remember, as far as they’re concerned,  _ **_you’re_ ** _ a  _ **_wild child_ ** _. Who’s going to want the wild child around, hm?’ _

Amita nearly turned tailed and slithered right back to her cave at that - but no. She  _ had _ to be sure. She had to know if Vol was still in the village, or if he had been taken by naga, or caught again by murlocs, or… or something else!

_ ‘I just need to see him _ ,’ she argued, slithering closer through the foliage,  _ ‘I just need to make sure he’s okay, that’s all I need.’ _

She had hardly reached the edge of the village before she saw the familiar flames of red hair. Amita had to stare, of course, because Luxanai had fiery hair too - but this hair didn’t have the orange tinge that Luxanai’s hair did. This hair was bright red from the tips to the base, and the blue skin that hair was attached to was familiar, even from this distance.

Vol was okay. He was  _ fine _ . He wasn’t injured, he wasn’t recovering from any injury that she could see. No bandages were wrapped around any part of his body, and no marks marred his skin.

In fact, he was busy playing a game with his group of friends, Luxanai darting to and fro with them, and looked to be having the absolute time of his life.

Amita both heaved a sigh of relief and frustration. Quickly, she turned back the way she had come,  _ ‘I can’t believe I was so worried!! For nothin’!’ _

She spent the rest of her day angrily practicing her calligraphy, and then angrily practicing her ballet, much to Lessah’oh’s amusement. Her anger spread over to her hydra form as well, and it was then that she finally formed her belly scales correctly.

Naralex praised her through bouts of laughter.

* * *

Another week had passed. Storm clouds still rolled through the sky, slow and steady. Rains from yesterday had already made the earth slick with mud.

Amita skid under a cropping of rocks, entangled by roots, and scurried as far back as possible, panting heavily. Her hair was plastered to her face with sweat and water, breaths coming in broken gasps. Her mouth was dry.

But Amita’s heart pounded excitedly in her chest.

This was the  _ closest _ Vol had  _ ever _ gotten to catching her. It was nearly the end of her thirteenth year, and she held her breath. Closing her eyes, Amita shifted into a cobra, and dropped into her stealth.

Sure, he’d sat behind her and rode Jashik with her for nearly a whole day, but that didn’t count as him coming close to catching her.

Vol raced by, kicking up mud and leaves and moss. The rain was still coming down, albeit in sprinkles rather than the torrent it had been that morning. Amita was in desperate need of a bath - but so was Vol, and she nearly laughed to herself. He’d gone and run right by her.

She heard him come back. He dropped to one knee; she could barely see what he was doing through the tangle of roots. Amita listened, staying as still as she was able while her breaths were still heavy. Vol was muttering to himself. She watched as his hand drifted lightly over the mud.

And then, she was looking him right in the eye.

In an instant, Amita dashed out from under the rocks, weaving through the muck as fast as she could. It annoyed her that she was easier to track in this sort of weather - and it had taken everything in her to not gasp in shock when Vol had appeared right next to the rocks, looking at her.

_ ‘When did he get so skilled?’ _ she thought as she lunged for a tree. She shifted back into her troll form mid-leap. She didn’t look back until she was a safe distance up the tree, perched on a branch.

Vol was giving her a fierce gaze from his spot at the base of the tree. He had his dagger grasped loosely in his hand. A sly smirk pulled at Amita’s lips.

“Not comin’ after me, sunshine?”

His nose twitched in agitation, and his expression shifted to an annoyed scowl, “can’t. I don’t have the time.”

She giggled, “yeah, I know.”

He hissed at her, and this time, she laughed, “you were so close! When’d you learn to sneak so well, huh?!”

“What do you think I do in my spare time?” Vol mused, tucking his dagger back in its sheath, “play?”

Amita’s expression fell. She glanced off to the side, letting her legs swing, “yeah.”

Vol snorted, “well, that isn’t all I do. I put in work. I told you before that I like to carve things, but I like to train too. And one of these days, moonlight…” he leaned against the tree, his gaze becoming so intense that Amita blushed and looked away.

“I  _ will _ catch you.”

* * *

Just as he improved over the year, so did Amita. His ego had swollen when he noticed he had gotten familiar with her trails, and knew Jashik’s meddling when he saw it. The raptor certainly made tracking Amita harder, but if Vol followed the raptor’s mess, he would often find the large beast.

Even if Amita wasn’t generally with Jashik when Vol found the raptor, Vol was pleased that he could sneak up on the large black beast.

Sneaking up on Amita proved to be much more difficult.

Today, he held his breath. He tried not to stare, because she was sitting on the ground nearby, a slab of wood on her lap. He was certain she would feel eyes on her person if he stared too intently - that, and Vol assumed that she was busy writing something. What else would she need a slab of wood for?

Vol exhaled as softly as he could.

He’d  _ almost _ gotten within arm’s reach of her, only to feel roots wrapping around his feet. He watched as she simply passed her hand over the dirt, and looked over her shoulder at him, smile all coy;

“Y’know, my teacher told me that no other druid can use entanglin’ roots the way I can use it~”

She stretched as she stood, and Vol could only scowl, his face hot for a reason he couldn’t quite grasp the understanding of. Apart from that, he had questions: what was a druid? And who was her teacher?

Instead of quickly gathering up her things, and running away like she normally would, Amita looked at him over her shoulder. Vol tested the strength of the roots that held him. Strong; too strong to rip through unless he struggled, and that would sap a good amount of his strength. He shrugged a shoulder, narrowing his eyes at Amita when she drew closer.

And walked her fingers up his chest, brilliant green eyes watching his face.

Loa he  _ knew _ he was blushing, and blushing  _ hard _ , if the heat was anything to go by. The combination of being unable to move because of the roots, her cheeky smirk, and her fingers on his chest encouraged him to struggle against the binds. The roots groaned, and began to snap the more Vol struggled.

Amita laughed and danced away, sweeping down elegantly to pick up the parchment she’d been drawing on, leaving her slab of wood behind.

Even with the momentum Vol gained from breaking through the roots, it wasn’t enough to help him catch her.

“YOU!!”

“Look at that, sunshine!! I can make you blush somethin’  _ fierce!” _ Amita sang, twirling out of his reach when he lunged for her. Agitation made his movements sluggish, and he swore that if his face got any hotter he might faint.

“I can make  _ you _ blush something fierce too,  _ moonlight _ !” he barked, hating how she dipped and wove out of his reach. It didn’t seem like she would ever stop laughing.

Vol wasn’t sure if he  _ wanted _ her to. He hadn’t seen her look this happy before. She had never laughed so freely around him either,  _ ‘I mean, she would laugh but… not like this.’ _

Now she had backed herself up against a tree, head lowered. Amita gazed up at him through her lashes, her hair falling partially over one of her eyes, and… Vol paused. The way she was looking at him caused a tightness in his chest and a strange sensation in his belly. He tentatively took a few steps toward her, fingers flexing, expression suspicious.

“You’re gonna’ hafta’ catch me first, Vol.”

He swallowed.

Then cursed loudly when those  _ damn roots _ curled around one leg. He hardly managed to cut through the roots with his dagger and roll away from that spot before he realized Amita had already taken off through the jungle.

* * *

It was a difficult fact to accept. Three months until his fifteenth year began, and Vol was still no closer to catching Amita in his grasp than he had been two years ago.

“You’re wasting your time, Vol,” Zalazane warned when Vol came back from his most recent failed attempt. The young troll narrowed his eyes at his friend, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Yeah? Well too bad I’m determined to bring her here,” he retorted, unclasping his quiver, “she belongs with us.”

Zalazane frowned. He followed Vol to Sen’jin’s hut, where Vol placed his quiver and bow. His dagger was next.

Vol sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. Zalazane leaned against a nearby pole, and Vol could feel his friend’s heavy stare.

“Look,” Vol said, looking over at Zalazane before he set himself to straightening out his father’s hut, “I  _ am _ gonna’ catch her. She can’t keep herself out of my grasp forever.”

“Yeah, but every time you get more skills under your belt, so does she.”

Vol bristled at that, pausing halfway through closing an open book, “oh? And how do you know that, Zal?”

The other boy huffed, “I’m a witch doctor, Vol - maybe not full-fledged yet, but a witch doctor nonetheless. Communicating with the Loa is something I do best. They tell me things when I ask the right question.”

“Uh huh,” Vol was unconvinced - though he supposed the only Loa he’d ever dealt with up to this point was Dambala. The Loa was elusive - just like Amita - and had only shown Vol how to shift his own form to a cobra for a brief moment in order to gain a burst of speed.

And of  _ course _ it would be a cobra.

“I’m serious!”

“I’m not doubting that you _ are _ serious,” Vol retorted, wiping down some of his father’s quills now, “but I don’t think you’re telling me the whole truth.”

“What makes you say that, Vol?”

Vol clicked his tongue. He couldn’t ignore the agitation in Zalazane’s tone, and he turned around, bracing his arms against his father’s desk. There were many things that made Vol say that. He doubted that it was multiple Loa Zalazane was communing with.

“You seem to be obsessed with my apparent obsession with moonlight.”

Zalazane’s face reddened, and his fingers dug into his arms, “apparent obsession? Vol, you  _ disappear _ at  _ all times of day _ when there are naga and murlocs lurking around, and all you do is chase after some  _ wild girl  _ who’s as easy to catch as the Loa damn moon itself!”

The redhead sighed, shaking his head

“Don’t you shake your head at me, son of Sen’jin!”

“And I  _ told you _ ,” Vol growled through his teeth, setting Zalazane with his best glare, “that first of all, she  _ isn’t  _ wild, and second of all? That she belongs with us. But I get it if you’re okay with her being in the jungles  _ by herself _ , subjected to the naga, and the murlocs, and every other beast that’s crawling around.”

“She isn’t something you need to protect, Vol,” Zalazane spat. Vol rolled his eyes, shouldering past his friend. Zalazane grabbed him by the arm and jerked him back around. Their foreheads bashed together; Vol hardly flinched, and Zalazane blinked rapidly at the pain.

Neither of their glares lost ferocity.

“She’s doing  _ fine _ on her own.”

“I never said she  _ wasn’t _ doing fine on her own.”

“Then why do you need to bring her to the village?”

“How many times am I going to have to  _ tell you _ that it’s because she belongs with us?”

“Isn’t that a damn choice she should make  _ herself _ ?” Zalazane snapped, digging his fingers into Vol’s flesh. The young hunter’s eyes narrowed.

“We made a deal. I catch her, and she comes to the village. I don’t catch her, and she stays on her own.”

“And if she  _ really _ wanted to be with us, Vol, I think she would have joined us on her own  _ years _ ago.”

“Yeah, sure, join the people who insist on calling you a wild child. That sounds like something I’d want to do too,” Vol said mockingly, slapping Zalazane’s hand off his shoulder, “you think that chasing her is the only thing I do? You don’t know how many times we stood on either side of a tree, talking to each other. She wants to be with us, but at the same time, she needs someone to give her that push.”

“Is that so?” Zalazane was so obviously unwilling to drop the topic, even as Vol began to stride away toward the village center. He flexed one of his hands at his side. The urge to bolt into the jungle just to get away from his overbearing friend was nearly irresistible.

“Will you get off my ass if I ask her.”

Zalazane jerked to a stop. Vol turned sharply to face him.

“Well, Zal?”

“I… that’s not what…” he struggled for the words. Vol cocked a brow.

“You know what? I really don’t care. If I want to waste my time, as you say, chasing her, like the sun is forever chasing the moon, then I will. You don’t get to decide that for me, no more than I get to decide that she belongs with us for her.”

Zalazane stood there, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Vol stared him down, and his friend’s silvery bangs obscured his eyes when he chose to glare at the ground.

“ _ Fine _ ,” he snarled through his teeth. Vol was satisfied with that, and he proceeded to join everyone else by the fire.

From a distance, Amita watched.

Vol’s friend, Zalazane, was practically shaking with rage - or at least, that’s what she assumed. She hadn’t heard any portion of their conversation. From their body language, Zalazane seemed upset, and Vol seemed annoyed.

If she had the courage to get closer, perhaps she would have been able to eavesdrop on their conversation,  _ ‘but that isn’t somethin’ I wanna’ do. Sunshine would have pounced on me in an instant. He’s gettin’ too close to catchin’ me these days.’ _

Amita sighed, annoyed that it still bothered her,  _ ‘maybe I don’t want him to catch me because I want him to chase me forever…’ _

Her ears flicked, and she looked up, squinting. Zalazane was stalking into the jungle. She quickly looked to the fire. Either nobody noticed, or no one cared. Maybe he was prone to wandering off as much as Vol was.

From what she had heard, the two were close friends since they were very, very little. Vol had affectionately told her how they would often get themselves into all sorts of mischief; how they would get these smiles on their faces that told everyone around them they were about to do something  _ terribly  _ stupid.

Against her better judgement, Amita slid down from her tree, dropping both into her cobra form and stealth. She’d been practising that. Zalazane was making no effort to hide where he was going, muttering angrily to himself.

Briefly, she wondered if he was insane.

“Hmm? What’s this?”

The way the s’s were drawn out clued Amita in on the fact that Zalazane had just stomped right into a naga. She hurried to where she’d seen him go as quickly as she could - then froze.

Zalazane looked possessed.

His dark eyes were wild, burning with a fury that encouraged Amita to draw back. She coiled up defensively.

The naga was one of the burly males; he had a look of amusement to his scaly face.

And then, without warning, he lunged for Zalazane.

The young troll whisked to the side. That was unnatural. Amita had never seen anyone do that before, and if she were in her troll form, the hairs on the back of her neck would have stood right up.

A dagger appeared in Zalazane’s hand. Right out of thin air. Amita didn’t like it; didn’t like him, didn’t like the strange things that were happening right before her.

The naga didn’t even get the chance to yell, or screech - just gurgle. Blood bubbled past his maw, dripping down his chin, and Zalazane ripped the dagger through the naga’s throat. He dropped to the ground, thrashing for but a moment more.

Then he lay lifeless.

Blood coated Zalazane’s hand.

_ Run away _ .

Amita started. It had been some time since she had heard Gonk’s voice.

_ Run away, Drepani. _

It had been some time since she had been called by that name, too.

The dagger embedded itself in the trunk right next to where Amita sat coiled. She stayed still, watching Zalazane.

She hadn’t seen him move his arm to throw it.

Listening to Gonk’s warning would be very,  _ very wise _ .

_ ‘Somethin’s wrong with him,’ _ Amita realized, and she could feel Gonk’s sigh along the back of her neck - and then, his presence was nearby. That made her feel safer.

Her eyes shifted to the dagger as it disappeared in coils of black, and red smoke.

“I  _ know _ you’re there,” Zalazane growled, raising his head from its drooped state. Blood had splattered onto his face; the image was disturbing, and Amita’s stomach twisted in knots.

“I can  _ smell you _ ,” he hissed, taking a threatening step toward her.

Amita bolted behind the nearest tree, shuddering involuntarily at Zalazane’s guttural snarl. He crashed through where she had been. Amita shifted back into a troll, darting around the same tree to bring herself behind Zalazane.

He noticed.

She dropped low, below his slashing arm, and swept her leg under him. He dropped, flailing and raging.

It gave her the short amount of time she needed to coil roots around him. His hand slashed at the air just in front of her face.

Amita did not allow herself to show him any sort of fear. She was worried he would consume her if she did, and his  _ eyes _ , by Gonk, they were so  _ wild _ .

What could he and Vol have  _ possibly  _ discussed to enrage Zalazane so?

Amita backed up until her hand touched a smooth stone. She scooted up onto the object, never taking her eyes off Zalazane.

“ _ You _ ,” he hissed, digging his fingers into the roots that bound him, “you…”

“Yeah, me,” Amita said nonchalantly, despite the pounding in her chest, and the sweat on her brow, “what ‘bout it, hmm?”

“You’re that damn moon Vol keeps  _ wasting  _ his time chasing.”

Her ears pinned back. She didn’t want to admit that his words hurt. The moon Vol wasted his time chasing? Amita supposed that much was true. She took the moment to observe the boy before her, and the way his body practically shook with anger. The way Zalazane looked at her; the disdain in his eyes, and the snarl on his mouth made Amita’s thoughts wander.

“You’re jealous,” she stated after a moment of thought. Immediately the rage and the fury and the disdain left him. Zalazane’s face reddened, though whether out of embarrassment or anger, Amita wasn’t sure.

“What? No. I-I’m not jealous.”

This stuttering Zalazane was the one that Vol had told Amita the most about - along with mentioning his adamant persistence, and constant worrying over Vol’s well-being. Whoever Zalazane had been moments ago, was not the same young man that was now bound by her roots.

“You are,” she stated flatly, giving Zalazane an unamused expression.

“I am  _ NOT!” _ he shrieked, his face reddening even more. Amita tilted her head, confused. Why was he in such strong denial about it? Zalazane began to sputter broken sentences and curses at her. Amita couldn’t help bursting into a fit of giggles at his futile attempts to both articulate his thoughts, and break out of her roots.

“I am  _ not  _ jealous,” he finally reiterated more strongly, his claws making grooves in the thick vines as he aggressively flailed his arms to try and break free.

“You are!!” Amita insisted on a laugh - though her jovial behavior gave way to seriousness. Her expression calmed Zalazane from his wild flailing, and Amita went on to explain herself, “you and Vol are best friends - I know. You’re jealous, because if Vol is spending all his time chasing this elusive moon,” she gestured to herself, then pointed at the silver headed boy several feet away, “then he’s spending less time with  _ you.” _

There was a certain darkness that came back to Zalazane’s features, and Amita set her hand down against the rock. If she hugged herself, he would know she was afraid.

“So you  _ do _ talk.”

“Did you really think your best friend would lie to you?”

“He didn’t tell me much about  _ you _ .”

“Keepin’ secrets isn’t the same as lyin’, Zalazane.”

_ That _ was a mistake.

He tore out of her roots, eyes blood red.

But he skid to a stop mid-charge, black mist rising off his shoulders. Amita’s breaths came rapidly, in and out of her nose. He was frightening, and Amita pushed back on the rock until her shoulder touched the cold metal of Gonk’s chest armor.

“Leave.”

Zalazane’s eyes were wide with awe now, as the wonder of seeing a Loa in the flesh overpowered his fury. Gonk lowered his head over Amita, obscuring her from Zalazane’s sight, and Zalazane from hers.

“This is a safe place. She is protected here.”

With a blood curdling howl that sounded more ethereal than Amita wanted to admit, Zalazane disappeared in a flurry of black winds. Amita clung to what she could reach of the bones around Gonk’s neck.

“You should have listened to me, Drepani.”

Amita simply nodded her head.

* * *

Three months passed. Vol sat, agitated, bouncing one of his legs.

He had numerous plans, and he didn’t know if four months was enough time to execute all of them,  _ ‘she’s too hard to trap, too difficult to sneak up on, her magic is something I never accounted for--’ _

A sharp whistle rudely snapped Vol back to reality, and he looked up to give Rokhan the most unimpressed look he could manage. The shadow hunter leaned against a sturdy totem, one brow raised.

“You there, Vol?”

“I’m here…”

“You seem distant. I know the celebration is in a few months, but you need to focus.”

Vol frowned at the ground, and suddenly his hands were the most interesting thing he had ever seen in his life. Rokhan laughed in good humor, tapping Vol with his foot.

“Let me guess - thinkin’ ‘bout your moon, hmm?”

“She’s not  _ my _ moon…” Vol mumbled, looking off to the side. At least comments like that had stopped bringing a blush to his cheeks - but it always reminded him of when Amita had gazed at him so endearingly with her back against the tree.

Vol shook his head, looking up at Rokhan. The distress in his features turned Rokhan’s broad grin into worry, “what’s wrong, Vol?”

“I… do you think I’ll ever catch her?”

Rokhan hummed, looking down at the ground. He pondered on Vol’s question in silence for a few minutes, and Vol got to his feet, brushing sand off his pants. The redhead observed the area around them.

Pretty paper lanterns were being set up all around the village. Children helped their elders make candles, decorated tiki masks, and some of the older children were helping sew together blankets.

Even if the celebration was four months away, there were many preparations to be made. Those that would be participating needed to be measured for both white, and traditional garb, fragrances had to be made, the pools had to be maintained and cleared of vegetation - the list went on. It was preferable to have the celebration in the earlier months of the year than the latter parts of the year, when it was more likely that Vol and his year mates could die. A sigh escaped him.

This left Vol with  _ very _ little time with which to catch Amita - or at the very least, convince her to come stay in the village, for just a little bit,  _ ‘just enough time to decide whether she wants to stay or not. Preparations are going to have my hands tied. Training is going to have my hands tied. _ ’

_ Your elder’s advice is something you should heed, then, boy. _

Vol jumped at the voice before scowling up at the sky.

“Very funny, Dambala…” he muttered under his breath. Rokhan snorted out a laugh, then crouched.

“I think you’ll catch her, Vol - but I think you’re goin’ about it in the wrong way.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Rokhan.”

Rokhan chuckled, “she’s scared.”

Vol was unconvinced, “that’s not even--”

“She’s scared of having connections. Of finding people to care about, only to have them taken away from her,” Rokhan interrupted, looking up at Vol with perhaps one of the more serious expressions Vol had ever seen cross the joker’s face, “I know more about her than I let on. That, and her eyes are unmistakable.”

Vol followed the shadow hunter’s gaze. Deonte was casually forming towers of sand for the children to destroy - or decorate, whichever they preferred. Vol quickly looked away, his stomach twisting in knots. He knew that. He knew Deonte was Amita’s father. He disliked that Rokhan was unwilling to tell him anything more about Amita’s apparent history.

“She wasn’t alone.”

“I know,” Vol said hurriedly, “she was with her muuka, and then one day, her muuka was gone, and all she had left was Jashik.”

“Feisty raptor…” Rokhan said, but Vol didn’t hear the rest of his commentary.

“Did you know her muuka?”

The older troll nodded his head with hesitance, then held up a hand to Vol, “that’s all you’ll get out of me for now, Vol.”

“Not from ol’ Rokhan, huh?” Vol mused, relief flowing through him at Rokhan’s cattish grin.

“Yeah - just like how I know where I can find you half the time!”

That made Vol blush. He slapped the back of his hand against Rokhan’s shoulder, and the shadow hunter barked out a laugh, “careful, Vol.”

“You shut up!!!” Vol snapped, reddening further when Rokhan laughed again. It was garnering the attention of nearby trolls.

“That aside,” Rokhan clapped a hand to Vol’s shoulder and pulled him away, toward the jungle, “I’ll give you some advice on how this sun can finally catch the moon.”

“Anything, please,” Vol pleaded.

“Keep her talking.”

Vol stared at him. Rokhan patted him on the cheek, “trust me, Vol. You keep her talking, and she’ll lower her guard. She gets real distracted when you talk.”

Vol groaned, muttering something about the fact that he  _ knew _ Rokhan followed him, and now he was concerned just how many conversations the older shadow hunter may have overheard. Rokhan chuckled, shaking his head, “don’t worry, Vol. You know I kept a respectable distance. Usually I was following you at your father’s behest - other times, it was the only thing that’d make sure Zalazane didn’t go ahead and try to find you himself. A gifted boy, that one, but surviving in the jungle has never been his strong suit. He doesn’t have your physical aptitude.”

Vol glanced over his shoulder; Zalazane was in the distance, leaning against a hut, talking with Voldreka and Nortet. He sighed.

For the next few weeks, Amita watched the village. They were setting up for that coming of age celebration again; she recognized the decorations. She enjoyed watching the process, even if it was a risky thing for her to do while remaining in her troll form. Jashik had warned Amita that she was getting too bold as of late.

Amita was inclined to agree with the raptor’s sentiment.

She wasn’t aware of how long she stayed watching the trolls go back and forth until she heard the brush rustle near her.

The shadows reached for her, and Amita was frozen in fright.

“Denjai.”

That voice, she knew. The silver fox, Rokhan, leaned against a tree nearby, his hair tied up tightly in a topknot. At his comment, the shadows stilled. Amita shuffled back, dropping into her cobra form, flaring her hood in warning.

“Leave her be. She’s not yours to bring in.”

With a scoff, the shadows reformed into another troll - he was younger than Rokhan, but clearly as skilled. He stood at the older troll’s shoulder, bald save for the tattoos covering the skin of his head. They pulsated with different purples, until finally returning to a solid black.

Amita rushed away, irritated at herself for getting so distracted.

* * *

Two months till the celebration.

Vol balanced his new glaive against his shoulder, looking at himself in the reflective material his father had found - a mirror, they’d decided to call it. His armor was new too, dark gray and blue, the traditional colors for a shadow hunter.

But he was no shadow hunter yet.

He walked out to the fire, sighing. With every step, his frustration mounted.

It had been quite some time since he’d gone out to track Amita, but he’d thought that perhaps, if he focused more on his training, he would raise his chances of catching her just a smidgen more. Rokhan’s advice often clashed with Vol’s ideas.

_ ‘Just talk to her, huh…?’ _ Vol sighed again.

“You’re sure sighing a lot, son of Sen’jin,” Vanira chirped. Vol pursed his lips to one side, stabbing his glaive into the ground, “nice blade, Vol.”

He made a sound of agreement, “thanks, Vanira.”

She smiled fondly at him, then frowned, “you’ve been real distracted these days too. You kinda’ stopped spending time with us.”

Zalazane’s eyes bore  _ holes _ into Vol’s skull. He settled his gaze on Vanira instead, giving her a crooked smile, “sorry. I just… want to catch moonlight.”

“Oooh, here we go again,” Legati chided, “don’t you know you can’t  _ catch _ moonlight, Vol?”

“Yeah,  _ sunshine, _ don’t you know that?” Zalazane hissed. Vol snapped his head in Zalazane’s direction, nostrils flaring. The young witch doctor crossed his arms defensively over his chest, and leaned back against the rock behind him.

His voice had dripped with venom - that, and there was something about Zalazane calling Vol by Amita’s nickname didn’t sit right with the hunter. He shook his head, pushing the feeling to the back of his mind.

“I really don’t understand why she won’t just come  _ be _ with us,” Vol finally lamented, earning a chorus of wonderings from his friends. He chose to focus on Vanira again - she was the most levelheaded of all of them, getting into the least amount of trouble, and breaking up the most quarrels. She tilted her head at him, green hair falling over her shoulder.

“Well, did you  _ ask _ her?”

Vol blinked, stared at his feet, then looked back up at Vanira sheepishly, “you know… I don’t recall that I ever did. I thought it’d come up before but… if she gave me an answer, I don’t remember it.”

She giggled at him, “silly Vol! Maybe the next time you track her down, you can ask!”

“But why  _ didn’t _ you ask in the first place?” Luxanai chimed in. Vol shrugged before turning toward her, then gestured over his shoulder.

“She’s watching us, right now.”

All eyes turned to the jungles. 

Ortezza, Nekali, and Soratha in particular edged closer to where Vol was, crouching and trying to look every which way. He couldn’t help chuckling.

After all, Amita’s incessant stare was ever on his back.

“She’s always watching, but keeps her distance. I don’t really know why. And  _ that _ ,” he pointed a finger toward Vanira, “is something I asked her about. I’m not  _ that _ dumb, Vanira. It isn’t like we only talk about mundane topics when we talk.”

“Vol talks to his moonlight, but he keeps her as mysterious as she keeps herself,” Soratha mused, earning some laughs. Vol rolled his eyes.

Half-way through the month, the rains came early. It rained heavily. Vol bided his time, thinking on all his plans. His thoughts often went back to Rokhan’s advice too, and Vol tried to work that into his elaborate schemes to catch Amita.

One night, he found himself wondering  _ why _ he thought an elaborate scheme was his best course of action.

With the ground still muddy from the rain, Vol tracked Amita down with ease - but it was easy.

_ Too _ easy.

_ ‘Something’s wrong,’ _ he thought, panic making his chest tighten. He shifted at the discomfort.

Her gasp sent him running. He was able to keep her in his sights, but as usual, she stayed just out of his reach.

They both stopped on either side of a medium sized tree to catch their breath.

“Why,” Vol began, breathing deeply, his heart beating erratically in his chest, “why don’t you think you belong with us?”

Amita huffed, “Vol. You asked me that question already, and I gave you my answer!”

“Yeah, well, last I checked, you  _ aren’t  _ your mother,” Vol retorted. Amita was quiet. Vol quickly peered around the tree; she was still there, but her fingers were tangled tightly in her unkempt hair, and she was staring at the ground.

“... because I’m wild.”

Vol opened his mouth to argue, then clamped it shut. She never listened to him when he insisted she wasn’t.

“Why do you think you’re wild?”

“Because the others said so.”

“What if they’re wrong?”

“What if they’re  _ right? _ ” Amita snapped, pain clear in her voice. Vol’s eyes tightened, and he found himself staring at the ground too.

“What if they’re right. What if I’m just some wild beast inside that pretends she can be civil. My muuka was a Darkspear, sure, but she was an outcast. And then  _ she  _ left  _ me _ .”

Vol balled one hand into a fist.

“Who wants to be around the wild child… not even muuka did. She didn’t want me. Chaako doesn’t want me either, otherwise I’m sure he would have come to get me already. No one else in the Darkspear tribe will want me either.”

_ ‘I want you,’ _ Vol found that possessive voice in his mind growling,  _ ‘ _ **_I_ ** _ want you.’ _

“You can’t live your life on the what ifs, moonlight,” Vol began, racking through his mind. He had to choose his words carefully. This could be his only chance, “I tried to keep you a secret, you know. My yearmates, though, they’ve been real curious - and sure, they called you wild, but that makes them interested. They want to know more about you.”

He paused, listening for any sign that Amita had stayed. He heard her take a breath, and so, he continued, “Vanira, she wants to know more about you. An’jen too, but she’s older than us - she’s the one who tried to catch you!”

A startled laugh escaped her, and Vol smiled.

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Her little sister - that’s Fey’jun - she stares at me with this look sometimes, y’know? That look where someone wants to ask me so many questions, but she knows she can’t, because I won’t give her answers. Legati is  _ very _ interested, but he’s always interested in anything that’s female.”

This earned him a stronger laugh, and a snort, and his smile broadened. He took the risk, and shuffled around the tree  _ just _ enough that he could see her out of his peripheral vision. Good. She didn’t notice.

“Interested in anything that’s female huh…” Amita repeated. Vol couldn’t help but notice that there was intrigue in her voice. That she was curious about  _ those _ things had never been something that crossed his mind.

Not that they had never crossed  _ his _ mind, but Vol had already had a lengthy discussion with his father about that. Again, he was reminded of when Amita had walked her fingers up his chest. Warmth caressed his cheeks as he realized what the implications behind that could be.

“I think you’d get along with Tunari well enough. Voldreka too, and Zabraz.”

Amita seemed to stiffen, “aren’t those two the ones who called me wild in the first place?”

“Legati was the first, actually,” Vol informed her, “he compared you to Luxanai. He calls her wild too.”

“Luxanai  _ isn’t _ wild,” Amita hissed, and her defense of the other girl came as no real surprise to Vol, “she may have wandered into the jungles once, but I was sure to get her back to the village safely--”

“You were the one who helped her?” Vol interrupted. He couldn’t help it really - but then he made a sound of realization, “of course it was you! No one knows the jungles better, and Jashik was the one who brought her back to the village anyway.”

Amita giggled, “you’re silly, Sunshine. But… yeah. She got lost, I guess, and I had to take her back. She doesn’t um… she just thinks I’m a snake.”

Vol chuckled, “right, because only me and a few others know that you even  _ have _ a troll form. Cuz you’re a druid, right?”

Amita could only laugh, and the sound sent his stomach fluttering. He preferred her laughter and cheery attitude over whatever somberness had come over her today.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Amita begin to fiddle with her hair - and usually, it was more well-kept than this,  _ ‘I wonder why she stopped taking care of it?’ _

“Um… who else is there?” she asked timidly.

Vol lit up with joy, “there’s Ortezza, a hunter like me, but she doesn’t want to be a shadow hunter like I do. Soratha, who’s a mage. They cast all sorts of fancy spells, working mostly with arcane magic. Nortet’s a warrior, and he’s around Aludur a lot - she’s a big woman! And she’s An’jen’s age. And - oh! You know, you’d get along real well with Zen’tabra too. You use similar magic, but Zen’tabra can’t shift into animals, much less a cobra.”

He stopped to take a breath, then chuckled, “well… you know all about Zalazane.”

“I do.”

“Vanira too.”

“You seem to like her a lot, sunshine~”

He blushed at her teasing tone, “what?! I do not!”

“You do so~”

“I-- there’s really no point in me trying to argue with you about that, is there?”

Amita laughed, “naw. You seem to really like Zalazane too. What did you  _ think _ I meant, Vol~?”

“Ooooh you’re real funny, moonlight,” Vol said, pouting deeply. She giggled.

“I try.”

Vol, perhaps, dove too quickly into his next topic of discussion, “so, you should come to the village so you can meet them all!”

Amita’s ears lowered; Vol had shifted closer still, his heart erratic once more. She returned to twisting her fingers in her hair.

“I--”

A twig snapped.

Vol could have grabbed her by the wrist.

He could have  _ caught her _ right in that moment.

But when he saw her sitting huddled against the tree, he could only stare. His heart sank. She was muddy, of course, but her clothes hardly fit her anymore. They were all patchwork, stitched together well enough that they would hold, but her chest was clearly too big for her shirt. Some of the seams were coming apart. She was poised to get up and run, but she stared up at him with wide eyes. He couldn’t tell if she was afraid, or if she was just startled to see him standing close to her.

Vol held out his hand. Her eyes flicked to his hand, then back to his face. She looked like she would bolt at any second.

“This… this doesn’t count as me catching you,” he began, kicking himself for not jumping at the opportunity to just grab her and win their little game, “but trust me! It’ll be fun. You’ll be there for the coming of age ceremony. Remember?”

Her eyes lit up at that, and he gave her a crooked smile, “stories, and bonfires, and music, and when there’s music, there’s dancing,” he prattled on, praying and praying and  _ praying _ that she would take his hand, “and you  _ do  _ belong with us. You’re a Darkspear.”

Her expression was unconvinced, and he moved his hand closer to her. She didn’t look like she was going to bolt anymore.

“Come spend some time with us before you decide that you don’t belong.”

If Vol’s heart could sing, it would be bursting into song.

Amita had chosen to take his hand.


	5. Come home with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Heads up, show down  
> Come home with me."
> 
> \- Catch Me If You Can // Walking on Cars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeey wassup, I never got formal sex ed and so I may or may not be trying to make up for things in this chapter but please appreciate Naralex and his shenanigans -- TW: SEX ED TALK IN THIS CHAPTER?? I did some research and got some input from people who have WAY more experience from me. I need to post this before I delete that entIRE SECTION because it's important for context (also because Amita figured out the art of flirting from him and Lessa'oh so... RIP), and shapes a lot of how Amita will stand up for herself and others in unwanted sexual situations. I DID MY BEST AND I'M SO SORRY IF IT'S CRINGEY.
> 
> I finished chapter 6 today! On to chapter 7~

Vanira stood at the edge of the village, waiting. Behind her, Zalazane paced impatiently. The young shaman didn’t take her eyes off the jungle, even as she spoke to her anxious companion;

“Stop your pacing, Zalazane.”

“He’s not  _ back yet, _ ” the boy hissed, and Vanira’s ears flicked at the second voice under his. When Zalazane spoke again, however, that ghostly edge had disappeared, “even after I told Rokhan that he went and snuck off again--”

“Why do you have so little faith in Vol?” Vanira inquired, looking over her shoulder at the silver haired boy. Zalazane stopped his pacing, staring at her like she was stupid.

“That isn’t the issue.”

“Do you not like how much he chases after this moon of his?”

“I  _ don’t _ .”

Vanira’s ears pinned back at Zalazane’s growl - but she sighed, and turned her focus back to the jungles ahead, “be patient. He will come back soon - I know he hasn’t been spending as much time with us, but it’s not wrong for him to be preoccupied…”

Zalazane moved to stand beside her. She felt his fingers on the back of her hand, and against her better judgement, she quickly clasped her hands in front of her. She saw Zalazane clench his hand into a tight fist.

“I guess the winds told you that, hmm?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

Vanira shuddered at his closeness. Soon enough she pressed a hand firmly to his chest.

“Well?” he prodded, one hand on her hip. Vanira opened her mouth to speak, but Ortezza called out for her.

Immediately Zalazane withdrew, as if she were fire. Vanira tentatively gave Ortezza her attention.

“You seen Vol yet?”

Vanira shook her head; Ortezza sighed, “that boy, honestly… why is his moonlight more important than the rest of us?”

“That’s what  _ I’m _ saying!” Zalazane piped in, crossing his arms over his chest. The rest of Vanira, Zalazane, and Vol’s year mates began to pour into the area. Zabraz was leaning rather heavily against Nortet, who looked miffed. Legati was greeting everyone heartily, of course, and Fey’jun - despite being younger - trailed behind the enthusiastic rogue. Tunari only got out a wave before she was immediately at Zabraz’s side, inspecting the injuries he sustained in his training.

Nekali, fellow shaman to Vanira, wandered over with Soratha, who had his nose in a book, as per usual. Zen’tabra was accompanied by both An’jen, and Aludur.

_ ‘Quite the group,’ _ Vanira mused, then caught sight of Luxanai keeping to herself in the shadows.

Vanira was about to wave the fiery haired girl over, but moving leaves caught her ear. She looked toward the jungle, half-paying attention to the conversations around her.

Much to her delight, Vol took a hesitant step out of the jungles. Fahey was standing up especially tall next to him, pushing out his emerald chest. Vanira thought this behavior to be strange. Why would Fahey--

“Oh,” Vanira breathed.  _ That _ was a big raptor. Black skin was decorated with teal, green, and white paints. He wore seagull feathers on beaded twine around his neck, and the upper portions of his arms. There were some crates and bags tied to his back, and he chuffed at the trolls before him.

The conversation around Vanira died. She realized that she recognized the dark beast - hadn’t he been the one that brought Luxanai back to the village some time ago? - and Fahey’s attempts to look big next to him were laughable at best.

“Come on,” Vol whispered to someone, “don’t be afraid.”

Vanira shuffled closer, curious, and her eyes lit up.

This moon of Vol’s was a pretty thing, despite her unkempt appearance. For a moment, she stayed huddled by Vol’s side, partially hidden behind him. Then, she scurried over to the large black raptor. Vol followed her; her hand gripped loosely in his - and to Vanira’s relief, when it became clear that this moon was trying to hide against the black raptor, Vol released her.

Vol then turned his excited eyes to the group, sweeping over everyone until his gaze landed on Vanira. She was closest. He shuffled over to Amita, leaning over her shoulder.

He pointed, “that’s Vanira.”

Amita gave her a little wave, and Vol shifted his finger to Zalazane, “and that’s Zal - well, Zalazane.”

“Yeah, I know,” Amita muttered, sticking her tongue out at Zalazane. He looked  _ utterly _ offended by the action, and Vol couldn’t help chuckling.

“Soooo~ this is your moon, Vol?”

“This is Legati, he’s an ass,” Vol said, giving Amita a blank expression. Legati gasped dramatically, earning a chorus of laughter from the others. Amita looked at all of them with wide, curious eyes, but she still stuck stubbornly to Jashik’s side.

Jashik, of course, wouldn’t stop releasing low growls at anyone who got too close.

“Who’s this beast?”

“What, you’re not going to let Vol introduce the  _ rest _ of us to his moon?”

“Fahey’s silly. He’s too young to try ‘n’ puff himself up to  _ this _ beast’s size.”

“Hey, I’m curious to know what you’re thinkin’ of your sun! And did he  _ really  _ catch you?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right! Did you catch her, Vol?”

“Well I--” Vol stammered, and Amita pressed closer to her raptor while Vol subconsciously blocked her against the large reptile.

“That’s not an answer!!” Tunari pouted, and Vol gave her a look of distress.

“Could you guys back up a little!”

The exclamation came from Vanira, and Aludur muscled her way through the group.

“She’s scared, kids,” the warrior mused, grabbing Legati by the back of his neck, and pushing Ortezza away, hand on the young hunter’s chest, “move.”

Amita, naturally, continued to look over the group. She wasn’t…  _ scared _ , per se, but she was certainly overwhelmed.

And then she spotted Luxanai, huddled by the side of one of the huts.

She squeezed past Vol, and with a bit of effort, she pushed her way past the other kids, intent on making her way to Luxanai.

Luxanai watched her approach, and drew back, pressing herself more closely to the wall of the hut she had chosen to huddle up against.

Amita could feel Jashik’s heavy steps as he followed her.

“Ani.”

The fiery girl perked up, brows furrowing in confusion. Amita couldn’t help giggling a little. Her ears flicked at the hushed conversation around her.

“It’s me,” Amita set a hand against her collarbone, “snakey.”

Luxanai stared at her for a solid three seconds.

Then squealed, and threw her arms around Amita’s neck.

“ _ OH! _ ! Snakey! Amita!!” she sounded so delighted. Amita was stiff at the contact at first - but she decided it was nice. She returned the hug.

Around the two, conversation got louder. Amita drew back, huffing. She became self-conscious; even though she had been able to take a few minutes to get herself more cleaned up, her hair was a complete tangled mess, and her clothes were still in tatters  _ and _ falling apart at the seams. There was only so much she could do with her sewing skills, and the more she sewed her clothes, the more damage she seemed to do. Deonte had certainly sent her clothes, and Amita had stubbornly avoided wearing them, because she hadn’t wanted to ruin them. Her tatters were all she had.

Someone tugged on part of her unraveling shirt.

She hadn’t  _ meant _ to, but she spun, shifting into a cobra, and spat a loud, open mouthed hiss at the offender.

“HOLY SHIT!”

The troll Vol had introduced as Legati stumbled back, staring wide-eyed at her. Amita reared up higher, flaring her hood. One of the burlier boys used his bulk to keep Legati on his feet.

Luxanai danced around Amita excitedly, “snakey, snakey, snakey!! You can turn into a snake!!”

“That’s  _ really _ peculiar.”

Amita turned her head toward the soft speaker, and Vol rested his hand against Amita’s flared hood, “that’s Soratha. I mentioned he was a mage, um, he’s training with… well...”

Flicking her tongue again, Amita lowered her head. Vol looked down at the ground, brows furrowed. Soratha appeared confused.

“His name is Deonte, Vol,” the mage said quietly, keeping his hands clasped tightly around his book.

Amita jerked her head up at that.

“Deonte?” she repeated, and despite the hope brewing in her chest, apprehension threatened to overtake it.

This single word brought another chorus from the group, encouraging them to all move closer, and Vol looked at Amita, flabbergasted.

It soon gave way to a look of mock betrayal, “you can  _ talk _ in that form!?”

“Manage little,” Amita lied, shaking her head, “snake mouth hard.”

“She can  _ talk _ in that form,” Zalazane repeated, his tone flat. Amita’s mouth turned down in a frown, and then her hood flared out unnaturally before reverting to hair. Her black scales gave way to mint green, arms and legs emerging from the cobra’s chest, like a butterfly from a cocoon.

After changing back, Amita tried to hide behind Vol.

“There’s so many of them…” she whispered. Vol’s hair brushed against her forehead. Jashik snapped his jaws, and stamped his foot, impatient.

Vol made quick work of introducing Amita to the rest of his friends - as well as introducing her to them. He took great care to point out to An’jen that he’d clearly been successful where she hadn’t been, which only caused the older hunter to exclaim that if she had  _ known _ Amita was a troll all along, she’d have put more effort into it.

Of course, Jashik needed to be introduced, though he was entirely displeased by this fact. He stomped his feet in place, grumbling incessantly. Amita was sure he would be scowling intensely if he could.

Once all the excitement surrounding Amita had died down, Vol was dragged off by Zalazane.

Without him around, Amita felt her stomach churn in discomfort. She huddled close to Jashik, not sure she entirely liked how Legati was looking at her, but not minding it all the same,  _ ‘hadn’t Vol mentioned that Legati was interested in anything female? I wonder if this is how Lessa’oh feels when Naralex looks at her.’ _

“They’re going to get the chieftain.”

Amita pursed her lips, looking over at Vanira, “oh.”

  
The shaman reached out and took Amita’s hands in hers, smiling kindly at her, “don’t worry. Vol’s father likes to know about anyone new who’s brought to the village. You can probably stay with me and my family - just me, my mother, and my father. I think that’ll be okay.”

“That um… that would be… nice,” Amita said, still unsure.

Vanira’s touch was gentle. Amita felt that she could trust someone like Vanira - after all, Vol had spoken highly of her in their conversations. Amita briefly wondered if it was too late for her to jump on Jashik’s back and make haste into the jungles. She’d been forced to take Vol with her to the cave, unfortunately, so she’d have to find a different place to hide…

_ Give this life a chance. Do not rob yourself of an opportunity out of fear. _

Amita shook her head, frowning at the ground. Her eyes shifted to Vanira’s hand, still loosely holding hers. They weren’t so different, Amita supposed. Vanira’s skin was similar in hue, but darker, indicating she had spent more time in the sun. Her tusks were considerably smaller - then again, when Amita looked over all the other girls, she was quick to notice that her own tusks were large by comparison to all of them.

Not as large as Aludur’s, which grew down and out like Vol’s did, but that was besides the point. Amita fidgeted uneasily, focusing on Vanira’s hair instead,  _ ‘as if I need more things to worry about… why do I have to be so different…?’ _

Vanira’s dark green hair was pulled back, and tied into some sort of ponytail, or perhaps even braided - Amita wasn’t sure. She wore much nicer, more colorful clothes than Amita did, and Amita felt a pang of jealousy, and regret, _ ‘maybe I shoulda’ worn the clothes Deonte sent me… even if they were pretty and I didn’t wanna’ ruin them, they just sat around in the crates collectin’ dust… maybe he thinks I was ungrateful…’ _

She’d told him not to send her anymore clothes after a while, especially when her body had started to grow more womanly. Amita could tell that she didn’t have the typical shape of most of the girls she saw, having broader shoulders, and more muscle in general - though of course, none of Amita’s features really matched that of Aludur’s,  _ ‘must be cuz she’s trainin’ to be a warrior. I think Vol mentioned that earlier…’ _

Of all the trolls she’d met so far, Amita felt the most familiar with Vanira from conversation, and Zalazane through unfortunate experience.

_ ‘I can’t lie,’  _ her eyes shifted to Zalazane. At least he wasn’t looking at her,  _ ‘I’m scared of him.’ _

Amita shook her head to will away the image of Zalazane’s wild eyes. At Vanira’s look of concern, Amita gave her the best disarming smile she could manage.

“So, this is the cause of all my worries the past several years, hmm?”

Amita’s ears pinned back at the comment. She was afraid to turn toward the voice, and Vanira gave her a nudge.

The chieftain was an older man, with long white hair tied into sections with purple bands. A frayed cloth mask hung between his tusks, covering most of his face - but his gentle brown eyes crinkled with what Amita could only assume was a smile. He had skin like Vol’s, minus most of the mottling,  _ ‘maybe sunshine spent more time in the sun.’ _

“... chieftain,” Amita muttered, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. Her fiddling only caused the fabric to unravel more, and she tightened her grip on Vanira’s hand out of fright.

“Hmm,” the chieftain drew closer, reaching out to lightly touch Amita’s face. Jashik’s flank pressed against Amita’s side as the raptor released a low growl. This enticed a chuckle out of the older troll, “a fearless beast, that one. You know me, Jashik. I would not hurt your ward, even if she took my son away from my sights more often than I liked.”

She blushed deeply despite herself, and Vol groaned into his hands while his friends teased him.

“I am Sen’jin - but I think you already know my name, no?”

Amita nodded her head curtly while her mind whirled furiously,  _ ‘you know Jashik too.’ _

There was a sparkle in Sen’jin’s eyes, and he nodded his head in approval, “you look just like her, but you have your father’s bright orbs.”

She stared at Sen’jin, eyes so wide she thought they might burst.

He knew who Alba’vida was. He knew who her  _ father _ was. Gonk’s voice again buzzed in her mind, but in her distress, Amita unwittingly ignored the Loa.

“I don’t suppose you would like it if I brought you to him? Your father, that is,” Sen’jin mused, watching Amita closely.

“N-no. No,” Amita pressed herself against Jashik, releasing Vanira’s hand in favor of clutching at some of his bands. Jashik’s tail swung around her, and his growl this time was lower. The threat was there, “th-th-this is too much for me. I can’t -- I--”

“It’s okay, moonlight,” Vol whispered. He set his hands on her shoulders, ignoring Jashik’s growls. She hadn’t acknowledged that he’d inched his way closer while his father looked Amita over. She shook her head. Vol’s eyes pinched in.

“Remember what I told you. It’ll be fun, I swear.”

Amita whined in frustration. She wanted to get on Jashik’s back and run away. Her mind was spinning - and on top of making her mind reel, the emotions left her feeling sick. It was difficult for her to make sense of everything, “I don’t… I can’t…”

“Vanira said she’ll take you to her home,” Sen’jin spoke softly. Vanira stood by his side, wringing her hands together, “and you’re right. This is all so much, especially for one who has been on her own for so long.”

Vol’s ears reddened. Amita watched as his soft expression gave way to something more aggravated; in fact, he looked almost angry. His grip on Amita’s shoulders tightened, and she tentatively reached up to pat him on the cheek.

“You look cuter when you smile, sunshine.”

Her comment earned her an embarrassed chuckle, but at least Vol smiled - then immediately frowned when Legati shouted that the two were definitely flirting. Amita blushed, and grasped her raptor pendant, rubbing her thumb along the smooth back.

Sen’jin prodded Vol away from Amita with his staff; the redhead immediately took off after Legati, who was still making a  _ huge _ fuss about Amita’s gesture.

This time, it was Amita who buried her face in her hands and groaned, earning a giggle from most who remained nearby. Sen’jin’s hand was heavy and calloused, when it came to rest on her shoulder. She looked up at him. His eyes were crinkled in a smile.

“You are welcome to stay here, as long as you wish - after all, you are a Darkspear. You belong with us.”

Amita could only stare at her feet. She’d heard that numerous times before from Vol, and somehow, hearing it from the chieftain as well made it sound more true.

“Now, go. Settle in with Vanira and her family - I will have some words with your father. I’m certain he has more than enough room in his hut for you to join him,” at Amita’s horrified expression, Sen’jin added, “when you are ready. And if you choose to stay.”

She simply nodded her head, and Sen’jin gave her shoulder a squeeze before letting his hand drop away.

“I’ll take you home now,” Vanira said quietly, grasping Amita’s hand in hers. Jashik followed after the two girls faithfully as Vanira led the way to her family’s hut. Part of Amita wanted to cry. Most of her didn’t like being so far from Vol, if only because he was the one she was most familiar with.

“Muuka! Chaako!” Vanira called. A large troll emerged from the hut, his skin such a pale green it was almost white. Amita stared at him, wide eyed, and Vanira chirped, “that’s my chaako. As you can see, I get my skin from him!”

The man laughed; it was a gentle - if deep - sound.

Before he could speak, a smaller troll poked her head out from behind him. Amita was bemused. This woman’s skin was a dark green, darker than Vanira’s, and her chest and belly area were paler - or at least, Amita assumed it was. She had a colorful wrap skirt around her hips, and a modest shirt over her chest.

She scrutinized Amita, eyes narrowed, “Vanira, who’s this?”

“Ah, muuka! This is Amita - you know, Vol’s moon.”

The woman’s face brightened, “ooh! Vol’s moon has a name after all!”

_ ‘By Gonk,’ _ Amita flushed for the umpteenth time that evening,  _ ‘does  _ **_everybody_ ** _ just know me as Vol’s moon!? Wait. Does that mean--’ _

“Of course Vol’s moon would have a name, bal’a,” Vanira’s father mused, “after all, her sun has a name - though it seems that we can call him Amita’s sun now.”

Amita groaned loudly and slumped to the ground. Vanira giggled - but then, she crouched down, her expression apologetic.

“Sorry, Amita. We only ever knew you by moonlight, and Vol let it slip that he only called you that because you called him sunshine,” she giggled again at Amita’s pout, “don’t worry!”

Amita groaned again, crossing her arms over her chest.

Jashik chuffed. The sound was annoyed, as if the raptor tired of being ignored.

“Hm. That’s an impressive beast---... wait.”

Vanira’s father drew closer to Jashik, who whined at him. His eyes widened, and he was swiftly by Amita’s side, peering at her closely - and then he was gripping her chin, turning her head this way and that.

Amita’s heart began to thump sporadically in her chest. Vanira’s father recognized Jashik too, and from the way he was looking at her, Amita was certain he recognized her as well.

“You’re Alba’vida’s child,” he said in disbelief, before looking back at Jashik. His hand slipped away from her chin, “that’s her ever faithful Jashik. And your eyes, by the Loa… you have  _ his _ eyes.”

“Whose eyes?” Vanira’s mother piped in. Amita hugged herself tightly. There was really nowhere she could hide. Her mind swam. Her mother had  _ friends _ in the village? Had people who  _ cared _ about her?

And yet she’d been in the jungle on her own for at _ least _ nine years, before leaving Amita on her lonesome as well?

_ ‘That isn’t fair. This isn’t fair,’ _ Amita blinked away tears,  _ ‘all this time… all this time I could have just come here with Jashik and everybody would have  _ **_known_ ** _ who I was, all this time I could have been with them but I thought I had to be alone because muuka never liked it when I got too close to the village--’ _

She yelped when Vanira wrapped her arms tightly around her shoulders, “you know!! You’re a lil’ more muscular than me, but I’m sure I have a few dresses that will fit you! And some robes. Muuka, you have robes too, right?”

Both of Vanira’s parents seemed startled by the change in conversation. If it bothered them, they didn’t show it - instead, Vanira’s mother ushered Amita into the hut, excitedly chattering about her many dresses, while Vanira’s father led Jashik to the back.

The better portion of an hour was spent rifling through clothing. Amita gravitated toward the brighter colors, taking a particular interest in white. After spending so much of her life in oranges, and browns, and being dirty more often than not, the purity of white drew her like a moth to a flame.

That, and Vanira’s mother - Busuzrah, as she had introduced herself - insisted that white was a very beautiful color against Amita’s minty skin.

“My mate’s name be Ral’gejan,” Busuzrah chirped, tying a black sash with a gold fish pattern on it around Amita’s waist, “he’s one of the tribe’s witch doctors.”

“Ah-- what’s… what’s their job?” Amita asked, observing herself in the mirror. She’d seen many in the Dream, and had been given a pocket one by Jhordis on one of her few visits. Since it was still muddy outside, Vanira had convinced Amita to wear the dark blue dress. It had an ombre to it, though, with the upper part of the dress seeping into a brilliant aqua color. It was pretty.

Amita liked it.

“The witch doctors make sure that we know about things before they happen. They converse with the Loa, and are given visions. Sometimes, they have the same ones, Other times? They have different ones.”

“Different ones?” Amita pressed, mindlessly sifting her hand through all the different bangles and necklaces that the family kept in a large box. Busuzrah nodded.

“When that happens, they put their heads together - and then they ask for more guidance, or they go to Deonte.”

Amita stiffened at the name. She wasn’t sure how to feel about her father now given all the knowledge she had received, and Gonk’s voice permeated her thoughts,  _ your father. The dark troll with the tattoo; I showed him to you once. He is a favored one among us. You saw him when Jashik got you and Vol lost on the sands. _

She frowned at the floor; Gonk was relentless,  _ your magic is from him. He was one wise beyond his years. _

_ ‘Wise, but he left his daughter to her own devices when she could have been  _ **_here_ ** _ with other trolls instead of  _ **_alone_ ** _ and afraid,’ _ Amita thought bitterly,  _ ‘left me, just like muuka did. I don’t care  _ **_what_ ** _ reason he might have. If Deonte loved me so much, why didn't he fight harder for me?’ _

That, at least, brought silence from Gonk.

Ral’gejan walked into the hut with as many crates as he could carry tucked under his arms.

“Who’s Deonte, exactly,” Amita asked flatly, because if she were honest with herself, he had never really explained  _ who _ he was in his letters. He avoided most personal questions she had asked him, and all she knew was that he didn’t have sway over the elders in the tribe.

Vanira looked to her mother, who looked stunned, and Ral’gejan released a low-whistle.

“That’s quite the look, Amita,” he said, setting her crates to the side, close to the beaded strings covering the entrance to the hut, “Deonte has been around for decades. He was at the chieftain’s side before even Sen’jin became chieftain, and before many of us were born. He has hardly aged in all the years I’ve known him, while the rest of us are showing our wrinkles and gray hair.”

Amita hugged herself. Ral’gejan spoke of Deonte with reverence,  _ ‘and what kind of face did I make anyway!?’ _

“But I’ve never seen someone look so ferocious when he was mentioned,” his gaze softened, and he placed one hand on Amita’s head, “you seem angry.”

“Did I look angry…?”

“Quite,” Ral’gejan chuckled, drawing his hand away from Amita’s head, “anyway! I suppose we’ll have two daughters for a while.”

Amita perked up at that; Ral’gejan waved a hand at Vanira, “take her around the village. Your muuka and I will get another mat sorted out, and I need to bring in the rest of her things...”

Vanira, of course, took that as incentive to grab Amita’s hand again - but then she paused. Amita tilted her head.

“Vanira?”

“... chaako, maybe you can, um…” she made a gesture.

_ ‘Did she just point to her hair?’ _ Amita furrowed her brows; Ral’gejan’s unexpected boisterous laugh caused Amita to squeak.

“Okay, okay. Amita, come, sit here.”

Amita turned around to see Ral’gejan patting a stool. Tentatively she went over, her hand slipping out of Vanira’s. She sat.

Ral’gejan hummed as he gently lifted Amita’s hair this way and that way, muttering under his breath to himself.

“You tried to cut it yourself?”

Amita flushed in embarrassment, “y-yeah… I did a bad job, eh? I-I had someone help me once but um… I haven’t been able to get it cut again recently...”

Ral’gejan made a noncommittal sound, “I wouldn't say that! You did the best that you could without anyone else to do it for you - and now you’re here, so I can help you with it.”   
  


He began to brush Amita’s hair. She nibbled on her lip, making sounds of pain every now and then. She tried not to, but sometimes, the tugs shot a biting pain through her scalp. Soon enough, Vanira’s father started trimming her hair with a sharp dagger.

“Do you like it long?”

“Ah, y-yes,” Amita stammered,  _ ‘shan’do has an easier time braidin’ it when it’s longer… Lessa’oh says it looks nice… Naralex likes it too.’ _

She said none of these names out loud, of course.

Again, Ral’gejan simply hummed.

“It’s pretty damaged. I’ll have to take off more than you might want,” he said softly, still cutting away, “and there’s some tangles I can’t brush out, which will leave your hair with some layers.”

Amita fiddled with her fingers, “that, um, that’s okay. I never… I mean, muuka would do my hair before… th-that’s fine though, if it has to be a lil’ shorter. It’ll grow.”

Time passed while Ral’gejan did her hair. He was particular about it, coming around to the front to make sure it looked even. He had Amita stand up at one point, muttering to himself, and then cut her hair some more while she was still standing.

Bright orange light was filtering through the hanging beads that made up the doorway by the time Ral’gejan finally looked satisfied with his work.

“We’ll give these to the birds,” Busuzrah chirped, stuffing clumps of Amita’s cut hair into a small cloth bag.

Weight had lifted from Amita’s head, and she fingered her bangs. Combing her fingers through her hair was much easier.

Amita turned, giving Ral’gejan a warm smile, “thank you.”

Ral’gejan beamed at her as he shooed the two girls, “get going! The day’s still young, you can meet others in the village!”

Giggling, the two young women rushed out of the hut. Amita let Vanira guide her; the shaman held her hand in a loose grip. Amita welcomed the contact, despite how foreign it felt. While she was often cuddling with her friends in the Emerald Dream, there was something more potent about being able to touch someone in the physical realm. It was nice.

She fleetingly thought about holding Vol’s hand again.

_ ‘... okay nobody needs to know that I was thinking that. Absolutely  _ **_no one,_ ** ’ Amita shook her head.

“So! These bigger, more fancily decorated huts belong to the more prominent members of the tribe, like the elders and their families! Sen’jin’s - and Vol’s - is that large brown one there, with all the tiki masks along the opening,” Vanira explained as she pointed. Like with most of the other huts strings of colorful beads covered the opening. Vanira’s finger shifted to one that was draped with a black, painted cloth. On the side Amita could see, the sun was in the middle of all the phases of the moon, with speckles of white radiating out from the moons. Amita assumed they were stars. 

“That one is Deonte’s,” Vanira said softly, then quickly pulled Amita in a different direction. She pointed out the shadow hunters’ hut. It was rather large, and looked more like a communal building than anything else.

As the two passed the front, two trolls exited.

Amita recognized them both as Rokhan and the one with all the tattoos on his head. She recalled that Rokhan had referred to him as Denjai. Out of reflex, Amita tried to huddle behind Vanira, and the shaman’s grip on her hand tightened.

“Rokhan and… Denjai, right?” Amita said, voice quiet. Rokhan gave her a smile, nodding his head.

Denjai, on the other hand, boldly moved closer. His sparkling eyes were focused on Amita, and with the way his mouth pulled up in a cocky smirk, it was clear to her that he was pleased she remembered who he was.

Amita leaned back when Denjai got close to her, and Vanira made a sound of complaint as he all but forced himself between them.

“Y’know, up close, you have some  _ real _ pretty eyes,” he purred. Amita pursed her lips. The flutter in her chest was both unwelcome and welcome, and Amita leaned toward him. She’d seen Lessa’oh do the same to Naralex whenever they were talking to each other.

“And up close, those tattoos look even more impressive,” she turned her head to the side, one brow raised, “but, Denjai, my eyes are up  _ here _ , not down there.”

She gestured to her chest, and his eyes flicked right back up to her face. He straightened, raising a hand to her chin.

“Caught me,” he chuckled. Amita wrapped her fingers around his wrist and pulled his hand away from her chin, batting her eyes at him.

“Kinda’ hard to hide it when you’re so close, shadow hunter.”

“Okay, you and me gotta’ go on patrol, Denjai,” Rokhan announced, gripping his companion by the shoulder, “y’know,  _ before _ you get yourself into trouble.”

Denjai rolled his eyes. He obeyed, but not before shooting Amita a wink.

She found herself being yanked in the opposite direction by Vanira. She was scowling in Denjai’s general direction, and Amita’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Vanira?”

“Ugh, he’s such a  _ flirt, _ ” Vanira grumbled. She tugged Amita closer to her side, glancing at the shadow hunters again, and whispered in Amita’s ear, “be careful around him. He has  _ no _ self-control.”

Amita couldn’t help looking in Denjai’s direction. He filled out his dark armor well; his stride was cheery, and the way he let his blade rest lazily against his shoulder belied confidence in his capabilities. She quickly looked away, pressing her fingers to her cheek. Warmth pushed back against the cool touch of her finger tips.

Briefly Amita entertained the thought of brushing her fingers over Denjai’s chest. She wondered how he would react: would he blush furiously like Vol did? Or would he give her a cheeky grin and pull her in close like Naralex did to Lessa’oh?

She gave Vanira a sheepish grin, knowing her cheeks were redder than before, “well, I guess that makes two of us.”

At Vanira’s flabbergasted expression, Amita giggled nervously, “wh-what?”

The shaman sniffed, “oh no.”

“Oh no?!”

“She’s a flirt.”

“Vanira!!”

“I’ve known you for ten minutes,” Vanira gasped dramatically pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, “and you are as wild as the rumors claim!”

The comment hit Amita like a boulder at the same time that Vanira’s eyes went wide with horror. Amita tried to jerk her hand out of Vanira’s -  _ ‘I’m  _ **_not wild_ ** _ ’ _ \- but the shaman tightened her grip to the point Amita flinched in pain.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“But it’s what you  _ said, _ ” Amita hissed. She tried to pry Vanira’s hand away from hers. This only encouraged Vanira to grab her with her other hand.

“No-- no I meant wild as in, um,” Vanira’s brow furrowed as she sought for how to explain what she truly implied. Amita’s ears pinned back, and she let her hand rest limply in Vanira’s.

“I’m  _ not _ wild,” she snapped, staring at her feet.

“You’re not.”

“Then why did you say that.”

“B-because I meant…” a sound of frustration left her, “ugh!! I meant you’re excitable. Denjai’s like that too. So is Legati, and Luxanai. They’re all a little wild. Vol is wild sometimes. And Denjai started it.”

Amita forced a giggle, “he did.”

Vanira didn’t fall for it. She released Amita’s hand in favor of setting one against Amita’s cheek, “you aren’t wild-wild.”

“I  _ feel _ wild-wild.”

“That’s because this is all new to you,” Vanira waved a hand around her head to emphasize her point, “you need some time to adjust.”

Amita frowned, digging her foot into the sand.

The sun was still slowly making its way to the cradle of waves. Seagulls passed by overhead, singing their song. Amita closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way,” Vanira muttered, this time holding her hand out to Amita instead of grabbing her hand, “let me finish showing you around?”

Slowly Amita nodded her head, and tentatively took Vanira’s hand again. The other girl tugged her along the line of huts, pointing out another large one that was used by the priests to house the wounded.

They arrived at the village centre, “this is where a lot of meetings and gatherings are held. For more important meetings, the elders and the chieftain will gather in one of the communal huts I pointed out earlier. Otherwise they’ll just have their meeting here. Sometimes the little ones interfere, and then they get nothing done cuz they’re busy entertaining the kids.”

“The elders don’t sound all that bad…” Amita muttered, fiddling with the top of her dress, “Deonte made them sound… um…”

“Stuck up?” Vanira offered, and Amita nodded. Vanira sighed, “they  _ are _ . Don’t be deceived by the fact that they’ll entertain the little ones. The older we all got, the more adamant they were about us - especially us girls - not taking up more dangerous roles in the tribe. Aludur, for example. She’s a tribal warrior, but the elders were  _ really _ unhappy about that. She faced a lot of trials, but her fellow warriors - especially her other year mates - were adamant about letting her defend the village with them.”

Amita frowned, “oh…”

“There  _ are _ some younger men who’ve become elders, and they’re more open to the idea of us girls having more important tribal roles, instead of just being prizes for the men to hoard. That’s why our year is so diverse, cuz we’re being allowed to freely explore the different roles in the tribe instead of being restricted to child bearers and trophy wives.”

Amita couldn’t resist fiddling with her pendant. She’d never known,  _ ‘is that why muuka didn’t like me being near the tribe? Because they were like that before? Is that why chaako never brought me here?’ _

_ His reason is more founded than you think. _

The druid’s frown deepened. Gonk’s frequent defence of Deonte’s choices came as a surprise to her.

While she was lost in thought, Legati sauntered over. Vanira was stiff as he approached, and Amita started when the shaman tugged Amita somewhat behind her.

“Hi Legati.”

“Oooh~ Already defensive, Vanira?”

“Knowing  _ you _ ,” Vanira hissed. Amita frowned comically, unsure of why Vanira was being so hostile toward Legati - then she recalled that just a few moments earlier, Vanira had been complaining about how Legati was a flirt,  _ ‘and he did pull at my shirt earlier.’ _

Amita looked him up and down, and when her eyes came to rest back on his face, he had one brow raised.

“So~? How’s the wild child finding things?”

Before Amita could say anything, Vanira quite literally bristled. Her hair curled up at the ends with static, and Amita jumped when a jolt coursed through her arm from Vanira’s hand.

“You  _ know _ she’s not  _ wild _ , Legati.”

His eyes narrowed, and he leaned toward Vanira, “I’m pretty sure living out in the jungle is more than enough reason to consider her wild.”

“Are you  _ that _ determined to think of her as nothing but a wild child?” Vanira demanded, releasing Amita’s hand. She stepped up to Legati, and he took a step back, eyes wide with surprise, “Vol already  _ told you _ that just because she grew up in the jungles it doesn’t make her wild!”

“Don’t act like you never thought the same thing!” he snapped back. Their argument pulled in other observers. Amita tried to shrink back, even if part of her swelled at the knowledge that Vanira was making an attempt to defend her.

Of course, the shaman’s ears reddened at Legati’s comment, “I did not! At least, not in the way that the  _ rest _ of you keep insisting that she’s wild! That somehow she’s a wild child-- if that were really the case, she wouldn’t be so composed! She wouldn’t act just like any other troll that we’ve ever known! Just like you, and just like me.”

Legati crossed his arms over his chest, showing no real sign of backing down, “she literally came from the jungle. The jungles are primitive - plus, she came here with a big ass  _ raptor _ .”

Lightning popped around Vanira’s fingers, “so what?! Maybe you just want to find some way you can  _ tame  _ her--”

“Ooooh, I can think of a few ways I could tame her~”

Amita squeaked at the voice. She couldn’t help skittering forward and grabbing Vanira by the shoulders, because Denjai had apparently returned from his patrol with Rokhan. He’d stepped up right behind her, and Amita maneuvered Vanira between herself and the shadow hunter.

Vanira jabbed a finger at him, “YOU!”

Denjai laughed boisterously, twiddling her fingers at both girls, “‘ello, Vanira, ‘ello little moon~”

Vanira scowled deeply at the shadow hunter, “I’m trying to have a  _ serious conversation _ and then you had to come over here and  _ ruin it!” _

“Aww, relax, fen’di!” Denjai said, grinning from ear to ear. He dipped behind Vanira to sling an arm around Amita’s shoulders. She was stiff for a moment, then allowed herself to relax against him. He tugged her along with him more into the village centre. Vanira, and Legati followed, with the former sputtering various complaints under her breath.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on patrol…?” Amita asked quietly, curious to know how Denjai could go from patrol to finding them so quickly. Denjai scoffed.

“Little lie the big man told to keep me out of trouble,” he looked over his shoulder and pointed with one finger to the best of his ability.

Amita followed Denjai’s gesture to see Rokhan leaning against a lamp pole, shaking his head - she could barely make out a smile on his features from this distance.

_ ‘I wonder why Rokhan is so wary about letting Denjai be near me?’ _ she wondered, absentmindedly reaching up to wrap her fingers around Denjai’s hand. It wasn’t as big as she expected, and perhaps Denjai wasn’t as  _ old  _ as she had initially suspected either.

She felt a little better holding his hand, though, and relaxed further when Denjai curled his fingers around hers.

“You’re still kids, learning this and learning that,” the shadow hunter chirped. Amita looked up at him, confused. He nodded over his shoulder, “those two. I don’t know why everyone’s arguing about whether or not you’re a wild child.”

Amita frowned, looking down at the ground. The second her hand loosened around Denjai’s, the shadow hunter dropped his arm to wrap around her waist. He pulled her right up against his side. She flushed at the gesture, staring at him with wide eyes.

“You don’t like being called a wild child,” Denjai mused, watching her. Immediately, she scowled.

“Would  _ you _ like being called a wild child!? For no reason!?” she snapped.

Denjai chuckled; his expression was kind, if a bit on the cocky side, “there’s always a reason.”

She nearly hissed - but caught herself, and pouted at him. He quirked a brow at her.

“Okay… what’s the reason then?”

“You’ve been the talk of the village - Vol  _ is _ the chieftain’s son, after all, he has a lot of eyes on his back, and weight on his shoulders. There aren’t many things that can distract him from his duties, but when it came to his moon -  _ you _ \- he threw all caution to the wind.”

Denjai tapped a finger to his chin, keeping Amita firm against his side. She let one hand rest against his chest, comfortable with his closeness.

“And since you’ve been the talk of the village, and Vol has been tight lipped about you, everyone else tried to find a way to refer to you that they understood,” Denjai said, his finger dropping away from his chin to point at her, “and  _ that’s _ why they chose to call you ‘wild child’. You grew up in the jungle, so in retrospect, the wild part is true - however, now that you’re actually here, it would be  _ uncouth _ for them to continue calling you a wild child, especially after you got all cleaned up.”

Legati grumbled behind them, and Amita couldn’t stop a giggle, “I mean… that  _ is _ true. And it  _ is _ uncouth.”

“Oooo you and Zal would get along  _ great _ with all your fancy words!” Legati barked. It only encouraged Amita to giggle more, while Denjai smirked at the younger boy.

“Aww look at that Legati, the apparent ‘wild child’ has more sophisticated language than you do! I guess that makes  _ you _ the wild one!”

With a high-pitched yelp, Legati lunged at Denjai. He had to shove Amita away from his person, causing her to stumble, but Vanira was quick to grab her by the shoulders and steady her.

Denjai laughed as he danced away from Legati, “hah!! Funny that  _ you _ insist on calling her wild when you obviously don’t like being called wild yourself!”

“SHUT UP!!”

“Well… well,” Vanira huffed. Amita turned around to face her.

“So~? Still think I need to be all cautious around Denjai~?” she purred, cheeky smile crossing her lips. Vanira’s blush disarmed her scowl.

“I guess not…”

“I mean, he’s right though. I don’t really look like a wild child anymore,” Amita fiddled with her pendant, brushing her thumb against the smooth back, “I’m not in dirty tatters anymore, my hair’s mostly fixed, and after a bath I’d probably look less… well... dirty.”

“A bath sounds fun~”

“You’re not invited!!” Vanira yelped, grabbing Amita’s arm. She looked at Denjai curiously. He had Legati in a headlock, grin on his lips.

“By the way, that color looks  _ real _ good on you~”

“Uh huh, but something tells me you’d rather see it  _ off _ me, Denjai~” Amita retorted, batting her eyes at him.

Vanira - naturally - gasped, and Denjai’s mouth dropped open. His expression was one of delight. Amita clutched both hands close to her chest, biting her lip against her better judgement.

_ ‘Okay, um, maybe it’s time to make a hasty escape?’ _ she watched as Legati took advantage of the distraction she had provided for Denjai, and wrestled out of the shadow hunter’s hold. Quickly, while they were still grappling, Amita grabbed Vanira’s hand.

“Y’know, that bonfire looks really inviting! I spent so much of my time watching from the distance and shivering in the cold that I think I might like to actually go near it for once!”

“Oh! Yes, okay, yeah, let’s do that bye boys!” Vanira said hastily, and then walked briskly with Amita toward the bonfire - but when they were almost there, Amita pulled back. Vanira glanced at her, concern dominating her features. Then, the shaman nodded to herself, and proceeded toward the logs the others sat on.

Amita observed the other trolls, swallowing thickly. They all looked like they were having fun, and she could see Vol from where she stood. Zalazane was sitting close to him, his eyes shrouded in shadows; Vanira took a seat next to him, and the silver haired boy perked up. Soratha had his nose buried in a book like he had when Amita met him earlier that morning; Voldreka was lounging against Zabraz, who was chatting with Nortet. Amita chewed on her lip. She didn’t see Tunari, or Zen’tabra.

_ ‘I don’t know if I should go…’  _ she gripped her pendant tightly,  _ ‘I don’t belong…’ _

_ Go be with them. There is no other way to change your mind; you are not so different, Drepani. _

“Oooh you be quiet, you big, over-decorated raptor!” Amita snapped under her breath. Gonk’s hearty laugh reverberated in her mind.

“Amita!” Vol’s voice broke through Amita’s furious internal ranting at her Loa. She looked up just in time to see him supposedly looking in Zalazane’s direction, his face all scrunched up in distaste.

She watched as he paused after turning his attention back to her, eyes wide - and then, he hurried over.

“You uh…” Vol reached toward her, then withdrew, raising his hand to his neck instead, brows furrowed, “nice dress.”

“You have Vanira to thank,” Amita giggled, pointing toward the other girl with her thumb, “it’s her dress.”

Vol smiled over his shoulder at Vanira, and when she approached, he nudged her with his elbow, “good choice.”

“You shush!” Vanira exclaimed, slapping him on the arm. He laughed, and Amita was satisfied with watching. She was happy to be able to see Vol interact with his friends more closely. It gave legitimacy to the stories he’d told her.

Shaking his head, Vol offered Amita his hand, just like he had earlier that day, “come sit with us.”

Amita dug her fingers into her arm. She glanced off to the side, eyes seeking Denjai. He was leaning against a lamp post, Rokhan at his shoulder. He nodded his head in encouragement.

Hesitantly, Amita reached out to take Vol’s hand.

_ ‘I like how his face lights up when he smiles,’ _ she decided. It filled his eyes with a warmth that wasn’t obviously there.

She followed him as he led her over to the fire, where everyone else was. They sounded happy that she had come to join them, as Amita received an array of greetings, ranging from “where’d you get the dress”, to “we’re so happy you came to join us!”.

There were a few trolls that Amita didn’t immediately recognize. Vol introduced them as Gadrin - specifically, Master Gadrin, and sitting next to him was a pretty troll woman, her hair done up in a tight ponytail, with a young boy sitting huddled on her lap. Vol introduced her as Amareh, and Amita offered the woman a smile - it was returned, of course, and Amareh introduced the young troll on her lap: Zelun’jin. Though his mother encouraged him to say hello, he shyly tucked himself closer to his mother’s bosom.

Amita, on the other hand, took to him immediately. She sat as close as she could, looking at him every now and again.

She’d never been given the chance to really  _ be _ around children. Vol and his year mates were also  _ her _ year mates, and Amita found herself enamoured with Zelun’jin’s behavior. Over the course of the conversation around the campfire, he was both expressive and vocal, waving his little arms around, randomly exclaiming things, adding cute details to the conversation that had most of the young girls giggling and the young boys chuckling - and then he was shy, and quiet, and hiding against his mother.

Amita was  _ so _ intrigued that she hadn’t even realized she was staring intently.

“I don’t think my boy would let you hold him,” Amareh mused, startling Amita out of her thoughts.

“Uh--! Oh! N-no, I, um…” she struggled to find the words to explain herself, “I didn’t know kids could be like that.”

“You… but you were a child once?” Amareh pointed out. Amita’s face fell, and she hugged her knees to her chest, staring absently into the fire.

Her silence on the matter was met with a soft hum from Amareh, and the older woman’s hand came to rest on Amita’s shoulder, “well! I hope you can find yourself at home here. Being with others is better than being alone.”

Amita made a sound of agreement, keeping her eyes on the fire.

* * *

Her first two days at the village passed without much incident, and Amita quickly found herself being bounced between training with the witch doctors, warriors, mages, and priests.

The tribe as a whole seemed at a loss as to what to do with her, having never encountered someone who could turn into a cobra before - or at the very least, not a troll that used magic the way Amita used it. Rokhan had been bemused by this when Amita was chatting to Vanira about it.

“Huh. Most shadow hunters can turn into cobras.”

“What!” Amita yelped, turning to face the shadow hunter, “no one told me that!! What does it look like!? Can I see it?”

Rokhan laughed heartily, “oh oh! So eager, so eager. I can’t keep it up for as long as you, mind; our forms were meant for slithering quickly from shadow to shadow.”

He entertained Amita, though, and she watched eagerly, dancing in place. Rokhan’s cobra form looked far more deadly than he did: pitch black, glowing yellow eyes, deadly spines running from the top of the head to the tip of his tail. He swayed in place, flaring his hood - then in a puff of black smoke, Rokhan re-emerged as himself.

“There you go, little moon~”

Amita clapped her hands together excitedly, “oh!! Oh, oh! That’s so cool!!”

“Aw, c’mon now, you’re gonna’ make ol’ Rokhan blush,” he cooed. Amita huffed.

“Do all the cobras look the same?” she asked. Rokhan shook his head.

“At the start of training, yes. As a shadow hunter gets more skilled, he or she might add adjustments here and there, like I did with the spines. Makes it easier for me to slip away if I happen to get grabbed in that form.”

“I wonder if I can do that…” Amita muttered to herself, tracing her fingers down the back of her neck.

She looked up at Rokhan again, intending to ask him more questions, when Nortet came racing by.

“Amita!! Let’s go!” he hollered, grabbing her by the bicep. She yelped, frantically waving her hand to Rokhan, Vanira, and Tunari as the warrior dragged her off to training.

Nortet was excitable and eager, often chastised by their elder, Zanga. Nortet always retorted that Zanga was a berserker himself, so he “wasn’t allowed” to chastise Nortet for something he often did as well.

Naturally, Amita was quick to learn that this led to an all out brawl between the two, and suddenly it made sense to her why Tunari had lamented that Nortet was always in the priests hut. She did her best to focus on their other teacher, who was clearly exasperated by Nortet and Zanga’s antics. Aludur had quickly taken Amita under her wing, showing her how to wield various weapons over the course of that first week.

Similarly, once warrior training was done, Amita was dragged off almost immediately after by Tunari - the young priestess would at least give Amita the chance to clean up a little bit from the dirt and grit she acquired when training with the warriors. Her healing magic was further refined by the techniques she learned under the guidance of the priests. Tunari happily showed Amita various first aid techniques, like setting broken limbs, treating burns, and sewing shut deep gashes.

While it was true that trolls had impressive regenerative capabilities, to have a bone set properly, or a gash sewn shut only helped the body recover from the injury more quickly.

After this, Amita found she had little over an hour to herself. It was difficult to adjust to her new schedule, and an hour was hardly long enough for her to meditate. She had yet been unable to go to the Dream, even when she slept. She fought off the anxiety she felt over being unable to communicate with Naralex, Malfurion, Lessa’oh, and of course, her druid-mates, by continuing to practice her writing and drawing.

When the hour was up, Amita’s raptor pendant would slowly grow warmer and warmer until Soratha found her; and he  _ always _ found her. She could be down by the beach, outside the raptor pens, walking too close to the jungles that always beckoned to her, or in Vanira’s family hut -  _ anywhere  _ at all. The mage would find her.

Though he was Deonte’s apprentice, Soratha would always bring her to train with the other mages rather than taking her to shadow Deonte as he did. Soratha was a jack of all magic, as his teacher liked to say, and Amita was trained primarily in the arcane. Soratha helped in any way he could, and often when they were taking a break from exhausting their mana, he would help her with her writing. Soratha's writing was flowing and cursive, and Amita was envious of how smoothly his pen glided over parchment.

Given all that she had learned so far in regards to the arcane, Amita couldn’t wait until she could get back into the Dream to show Naralex, and Malfurion what she had learned.

Finally, the end of her day would leave her to train with the witch doctors. Zalazane would come and fetch her, and she would go with him, and they would both do so begrudgingly. As the week progressed, however, Amita found Zalazane to be far more receptive to her - even if most of his commentary was chastisement on how she was doing  _ everything _ wrong and by the Loa if she would just  _ watch what he did _ she wouldn’t mess up so much.

_ ‘His way of trying to be nice, I guess,’ _ Amita scowled at the parchment in front of her, then threw up her hands in frustration. Adjusting to village life was much more difficult than she had anticipated,  _ ‘a week! It’s been a week! Shouldn’t I adjust faster than this!?’ _

At the beginning of her second week in the village, Amita began to learn that she had been fortunate enough to wind up with a more formal schedule. Oftentimes she would see Vol lounging around while she darted from place to place, and Vanria could only catch her for a moment before she was gone again.

“You’ve been so busy!” Vanira lamented, tossing a rock into the ocean, “there’s a lot of things we need to get done with you in preparation…”

Amita’s ear flicked; Vanira’s rock had plunged into the water and made a large splash, “preparation?”

“Yeah!”

“For… what?”

Vanira gave Amita a quizzical look as she stooped to pick up another rock, “for the coming of age celebration. Didn’t Vol tell you?”

“Oh! Um… yeah… he did,” Amita muttered, looking away. This new whirlwind in her life had caused her to forget  _ why _ the village was so loudly decorated - and still, new decorations popped up every day. There were strings of lights strung up between huts now, and Amita picked at the back of a shell she’d found. It wasn’t anything special, but if she got off the rough outer layer, it would have a smooth white surface. She could probably make something out of it.

“... Amita?”

“Hm?”

“You seem unhappy?”

“Oh, n-no, I’m not unhappy I’m just… unsure,” Amita stammered, then quickly changed the subject, “in all the years I happened to watch the celebration, I noticed the naga, and the murlocs, never really seemed to intervene, even though a celebration would  _ definitely _ be the best time to attack.”

At first, Vanira was silent. She stared at Amita, confused, and then looked out at the ocean, her brows furrowed, “I… I don’t know? I never… thought about that before. Maybe chaako knows… but! If I had to guess,” she gave Amita a smile, “I’d say that the witch doctors and shamans had something to do with it! Probably Deonte mostly. He’s very powerful, you know?”

Amita shook her head, and hugged her knees, “no, I don’t. I still haven’t met him.”

“Oh…”

“I think he’s avoiding me.”

“I-I wouldn’t… well…” Vanira trailed off to silence. Amita sighed, pressing her cheek to the top of her knees.

“It’s okay. I think I’m used to it by now - maybe he’s busy,” she let the shell drop out of her hand, “too busy for me.”

Vanira made a sound of disagreement, “I woul-- actually! Why don’t you ask Vol?”

Amita gave Vanira a look, pouting, “what would Vol know about Deonte?”

The shaman shrugged, though a smile pulled at her lips, “you won’t know if you don’t ask him~”

Frowning, Amita got up, “fine! I’ll go ask Vol!”

Vanira’s snicker chased Amita away, and as she was wandering around the village, she realized she had  _ no _ idea where Vol might be. She didn’t know what his schedule was like, only that  _ she _ was so busy that she’d hardly seen much of him.

Amita paused. Maybe  _ she _ was the one who was too busy? Maybe they were both busy?

“UuuUUUUGH!” she threw her hands, stamping her foot in frustration, “why do I care?! I shouldn’t care…”

“Care ‘bout what, little moon?”

She squeaked, jolted forward, and spun around. Denjai was grinning from ear to ear when she set her eyes on him.

“Um. Things!” she said, taking a small step back when Denjai took a large step forward. He raised a brow.

“Things huh? What kinda’ things?” Denjai pressed, shuffling closer. Amita fiddled with her pendant.

“Personal things,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at Denjai for a moment. His gaze shifted to the side, “aside from that, though, I was lookin’ for Vol! I haven’t seen him much this week.”

“Vol huh?” Denjai mused. His smile faltered enough for Amita to notice. She tilted her head to the side.

“Yeah. Do you… know where he is? I’m still learnin’ the layout of the village…”

“He’s trainin’ with Rokhan right now,” Denjai chirped, turning on his heel. He beckoned to her over his shoulder, “I’ll take ya.”

Amita hurried after him. Like most males in the tribe, Denjai had a long stride. Amita had to jog to keep up with the shadow hunter.

“How’re you likin’ it here?”

“Uh!! It’s nice… I think.”

“You  _ think _ ?” Denjai repeated, chuckling. Amita pouted at the sand. It was so strange to be walking on soft sand all the time and not on the leaf littered, rock littered, root hazardous jungle floor.

“I’ve only been here a week and some days… my schedule is so strange… today I have to myself, but everyone I know is busy with other things,” she huffed, following Denjai as he turned a corner around a hut, “Jashik has been stuck with the other raptors for a while and I miss him…”

Denjai abruptly stopped, and Amita jogged ahead of him before stopping herself, “Denjai?”

He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, “the raptor pens are  _ that _ way.”

Amita furrowed her brows, and pointed in the opposite direction, “but… Vol is this way?”

Denjai rolled his eyes, a smile pulling at his lips, “yeah, yeah, Vol is.”

“Okay!! I’ll go by myself then!” she spun around and continued off the way Denjai had been taking her initially,  _ ‘what’s with him!?’ _

“Aww, can’t I have  _ some _ excuse to spend more time with you~?” Denjai asked as he fell into step next to her, “you  _ still _ don’t know where you’re going.”

“I’ll figure it out!” Amita announced. Denjai’s chuckle made her grumble, and move more quickly. The shadow hunter followed her with ease, and grabbed her arm at one point to pull her to the left when she went to the right.

“Your sun’s over here, little moon.”

_ ‘He’s not my sun!’ _ Amita wanted to hiss, but she was distracted by Denjai’s tone. He didn’t sound like he was trying to tease her,  _ ‘is he jealous? He  _ **_sounds_ ** _ jealous.’ _

She heard the sound of wood on wood soon enough, and pulled out of Denjai’s grip, ears flicked up in curiosity.

The area she surveyed was a large ring, sectioned off by twine and logs that had most likely been hammered into the sand. Trolls surrounded the ring, leaning against the posts, chatting amongst themselves, or cheering for the two trolls who were sparring in the middle.

Amita hurried forward, and Denjai’s gaze lingered on her back.

Vol was in the ring with Rokhan. Amita could hardly follow the movements of their hands as they exchanged blows.

_ ‘... he was never really trying to catch me, was he?’ _ Amita glanced away. The two continued their movements, and Amita shook her head,  _ ‘no. I mean… he’s training here. He’s fighting. I don’t think he’d want to actually hurt me.’ _

She settled for quietly observing, though she could never seem to ignore Denjai’s still lingering gaze.

Vol glided across the sand like the sun would glide across the sky. He would parry, lunge, parry, dodge, strike Rokhan’s arm, duck, and swept his leg at Rokhan’s feet. The older troll released a startled laugh as he went down - and right into the shadows. Vol cursed, and darted into the shadows himself.

Then, both shadow hunters were weaving around each other as cobras. Amita was surprised when Vol struck at Rokhan, while Rokhan took the brief moment to coil around Vol. When they shifted back, Rokhan had Vol in a headlock.

Amita was sure it was done there, but Vol reached back and grabbed Rokhan’s bicep, and then his elbow with the other hand. He pushed himself up onto one knee, and before Rokhan could react, Vol jerked the older man over his shoulder. Rokhan hit the ground with a solid thud, sending sand flying in all directions. Amita blinked - she’d had no idea Vol could do that either.

Neither man had their wooden glaives, and Vol - for whatever reason - let Rokhan have a moment to recover.

“Oh, damn!” Rokhan rolled his shoulder, “listen, I know Amita is watching and all, but you don’t  _ have _ to go out of your way to impress her…”

“WHAT?!” Vol exclaimed, looking around the ring frantically. Amita flushed, and many trolls in the group laughed - and Rokhan, taking advantage of Vol’s distraction, rushed forward and scooped Vol onto his shoulder. Vol retaliated by kicking his legs wildly in the air, and struggling so vehemently that Rokhan ended up losing his balance.

The young troll wasted no time in locking his legs around Rokhan’s neck, leaving the older man wheezing with laughter.

“Stop  _ laughing _ Rokhan!”

“O-oh my Loa you sh-shoulda’ seen your face--” Rokhan shifted into the shadows to escape Vol’s leg lock, and scooped up his wooden glaive, “right! I think we’re done.”

“I--”

“Vol we’ve been sparring for ten minutes already, let my old bones rest,” Rokhan lamented. Vol was unimpressed, and this time when he looked around the ring, he saw Amita. She shrunk back a little, then waved at him, and Vol scrambled to his feet.

“Amita!” he said, trotting over to her - and then leaned down to brush sand off his pants. She had to giggle at him a little.

“Hi, sunshine.”

“So uh,” he cleared his throat, ears flicking at the snickering around them, “what are you doing here?”

“I’ve got nothin’ to do today,” she admitted, turning to seek out Denjai. The other shadow hunter was gone, and she stared blankly where he had been for a moment. She hadn’t even realized his gaze had disappeared from her back.

“Um… Denjai brought me over. Vanira told me that I should… ask you about Deonte,” she muttered, looking back at Vol, “but I don’t know what you might know about Deonte.”

Vol blinked at her, then grunted in annoyance when Rokhan smacked him on the back of the head, “go on!! You’re done for the day, go have a little chat!”

Grumbling under his breath, Vol grasped Amita around the bicep and pulled her toward the beach - when she went willingly, he released her arm. They walked in silence, and Amita watched a crab skitter along the sand ahead of them.

“What do you want to know about Deonte?” Vol asked, breaking the silence. Amita hummed, and pushed a shell around with her toe.

“Well, I asked Vanira why the murlocs and naga don’t attack the village during the coming of age celebration…” she started, glancing at Vol to gauge his reaction. He didn’t look as surprised by this observation as Vanira had been, “and it seems strange, now that I think about it, because well… wouldn't the celebration be the prime time to attack?”

“You’re not wrong, but Deonte keeps them away,” Vol replied, dropping onto the sand, right onto his back. Amita stared at him for a moment, then sat down next to him.

“How?”

“Deonte’s real powerful! And the naga kinda’ want to capture him, I think - I’m not entirely sure though. He just… disappears during the celebration, and then checks in every now and then, from what I remember,” Vol’s eyes tightened, “I just wonder if he’ll actually  _ want  _ to miss out on it this time…”

Amita huffed, “what makes you say that?”

Vol abruptly sat up, combing his hand through his hair to get rid of the sand. He looked to the left, then the right, and then leaned close enough to Amita that she could feel his breath on her ear.

“You remember that day Jashik ran in the totally opposite direction of the village?”

“Yeah.”

“Remember that man that came to get me?”

“... yes?”

“ _ That _ was Deonte.”

Amita stared at Vol as he leaned away, “he silenced me so I couldn’t say his name, cuz he knew that you knew his name, and he didn’t want you to know that was him.”

She bristled. Anger boiled in her chest. Why couldn’t she have  _ known  _ it was him at that time? She’d always had a nagging thought at the back of her mind that she had recognized the dark skinned man. Gonk stirred again, and she was reminded that the Loa had told her that she saw him when Jashik had gone on his little detour across the island - and this time, she purposefully ignored anything Gonk had to say.

“... I asked him why. He said you couldn’t know yet, something to do with the village elders,” Vol sighed, slumping forward against his knees, “which, I can believe. A good number of them still cling to the old ways, and Deonte does what he can to respect them but… I dunno. Maybe he just doesn’t want to cause strife.”

Amita growled, and Vol looked at her, startled. She dug her fingers into the sand, and hot tears welled up in her eyes. Vol set his hand on her arm, and after a moment’s deliberation, he pulled her to his shoulder. She struggled to keep herself together against him, until she managed to choke out:

“Why doesn’t anyone  _ want me _ ?”

Vol made no sound; he merely reached around her with his other arm and hugged her closer to him.

* * *

Another week passed. Amita sat in the hut she’d come to call home, where Ral’gejan was currently fast asleep. She dipped her quill into ink and began making an attempt at sketching out his sleeping form.

The village was getting itself considerably more worked up, and Amita was apprehensive about the coming celebration. She’d recently returned from picking a multitude of flowers with Vanira, Tunari, Zen’tabra, and Luxanai,  _ ‘and to think, I never knew there was a field of wildflowers anywhere on this island! I wonder who planted them…’ _

Jashik had been overjoyed to see her that morning, and was more than happy to be taken for a long ride. Vanira had perched on his back with Amita, and by the time the sun was half-way through the sky, the girls had filled seven baskets: one for each of their backs, and two for Jashik. More women and children had been there, including Amareh and Zelun’jin, Fey’jun and An’jen - and their mother, Nieh’don - and Soratha.

Amita had, naturally, taken a break to weave together a crown of flowers for Jashik to wear - and while she could have easily made the flowers grow from nothing, just as Ysiel had shown her, she was too anxious to focus any of her magic. Creating them from real plants would have to suffice.

Presently, Amita frowned at her parchment. The figure that she’d scribbled in the top corner  _ hardly _ looked like Ral’gejan. She started over again, right beneath it,  _ ‘I haven’t met another troll druid yet anyway… but Zen’tabra seems like she could become one! Maybe I should try teaching her... ah, I really need to get back to the Dream. I hope Naralex and Malfurion aren’t too worried about me...‘ _

Amita had finally come to understand the village’s schedule as much as her own. Her training sessions were more spread out now, with her being allowed to choose which ones she wanted to do on any given day versus having to go to all four. She would always see children come and go, bouncing from session to session as they tried to determine what it was  _ they _ wanted to be as they grew older.

The groups that had specific set times were the witch doctors and shamans, the shadow hunters, hunters, and warriors. The former would commune with the Loa, spirits, or the elements, and from there, they would determine the weather, or when the next naga attack might be - along with various other predictions.

Shadow hunters were swamped by meetings as well, planning out who was going on patrol when, and they always either went in pairs, or in groups of six. Their territory extended outside the village, where they patrolled the outer perimitters, and often routed murlocs, naga, or both before a proper attack on the village could be mounted. Still, there would be at least two active pairs patrolling the sprawling village itself, and if anything got out of hand, there was a plethora of shadow hunters that were off-duty within the village that could fend off even the most powerful of sea witches.

Amita didn’t want to think about the fact that soon, Vol would likely join the ranks of patrolling shadow hunters. She had seen the risks of patrolling the outer perimeters first hand, when she had been on her way to the priests’ hut. There was a commotion over a pair that had left an hour ago, and not returned, and so another pair of shadow hunters rushed out, assumedly onto the route the first pair had gone on. Later, Rokhan burst into the priests’ hut with a gravely wounded shadow hunter draped over his shoulders.

His partner had been killed.

They’d gone out later to recover the body, and Amita had withdrawn quickly to the hut.

She had to start another new drawing. The lines of her second attempt had grown shakey. 

The warriors, naturally, were tasked with defending various vulnerable points of the village - namely the vast, unprotected south, where the ocean crashed upon the beach - and the north, where the village gave way to jungle. So too did the axe throwers and archers defend the village, but to Amita, they were all the same. Trolls whose sole purpose, more often than not, was to make sure the village was protected.

Hunters were the ones who went out with the raptors and tigers to bring back food for the village as a whole. Usually there were boars, then the odd tiger or two. Additionally, the hunters were tasked with skinning the beasts, gutting them, cleaning the bones, and portioning out the meat to ensure that there was enough to go around. Witch doctors would pray over the raw meat as well, and some would be made into a bundle of incense, flowers, and grass as an offering to each and every Loa the Darkspear praised.

As far as tasks children did, they helped their parents with various chores, such as keeping the village clean, catching fish from the ocean, or helping catch crabs, lobsters, and clams. Once, Amita had seen a group of kids bring ashore a shark. She admired their tenacity.

_ ‘And here I am, still unsure of where my position in the tribe will be, when even little kids know,’ _ Amita sighed, setting her quill to the side for a moment,  _ ‘maybe I’ll be at my most helpful defending? I don’t think I’d be very good with the village healers. I don’t like being cooped up in the priests’ hut. It smells like death in there…’ _

She didn’t know how Tunari managed it at such a young age, but then again, Amita supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. She picked her quill back up again, and began a fourth attempt.

“Ahh I wish I knew why we went to collect all those flowers! The girls didn’t tell me…”

“Mmn, probably for the celebration.”

A strangled gasp escaped her, and her quill flew across the parchment. An angry black line stared back at her, and when she looked up at Ral'gejan, there was a smile pulling at his lips.

“Didn’t think I’d be awake?”

“You were sleepin’, so clearly  _ no!!” _ Amita exclaimed. She frowned at the black mark. Her drawing hadn’t even been turning out that badly this time.

Not that she could really draw other trolls. She was better at plants and animals; then again, she had never sat down in the jungles and focused solely on drawing the trolls she saw running around. Amita sighed, dropping her quill.

“I’ll never belong... I should just go back to the jungles, go back to bein’ wild… that would be easier than this…” she grumbled, fiddling with her pendant.

“Change isn’t easy,” Ral’gejan said softly. She heard him shift on his mat.

“Why?” she asked just as softly. Ral’gejan chuckled. When she looked at him again, he still had his eyes closed.

“Because change means things will be different. Change is moving away from what has become familiar to you - and that isn’t strange. Change isn’t something many take too well. When I was your age, I didn’t like change either. It ruined so many of my plans,” he peered at her with one eye, and his face crinkled with a broader smile, “you were living on your own for so long, I’m sure adjusting to village life will be  _ especially _ hard on you. Once we figure out where you will work best, you might find yourself being dragged off to hunt, or defend, or patrol.”

Amita pushed her parchment to the side and scooted closer to him. Part of her was glad she had opted for a tight pair of what most referred to as shorts, and a simple wrap top. Her preference may have been for dresses and skirts, but neither were great for any sort of combat, and certainly not good for training in.

Ral’gejan took this as interest, and continued as she had hoped, “that will mean you won’t have as much time to yourself as you’re used to. Now, you’ve already noticed that I’ve been in the hut for a while. You could say that today is my day ‘off’. I don’t have much to do outside of being required to attend a few meetings. These are days you will learn to cherish,” he smiled blissfully, “I hope you young things will be ready. After the celebration, you will all have much less freedom than you have now.”

“Comin’ of age celebration…” Amita repeated, looking down at the straw mat, “Vol mentioned it to me, and explained most of what will happen, but I don’t know if I’m actually prepared. Vanira brought it up once but I only saw her at lunch yesterday and we didn’t get to talk for very long…”

Ral’gejan pushed up on his arms, his expression scrutinizing, “wait, what do you know about it so far?”

So she explained what Vol had told her, to the best of her ability. About how on the first day, they would take special baths, and dress in special clothes, and then jump into the ocean, and later have a feast. That on the second day, there would be dancing, and stories, and more feasting, and tiki mask decorating. How the third and fourth days were the rite of passage, and how there would be a special dance and song if any of them were found dead. The last day, of course, was more feasting, and additionally to being the final day of the celebration, it would also be the last day they would all have to enjoy their freedom before being given their roles in the tribe.

Ral’gejan clicked his tongue.

“Aye… that’s not everything you need to know. Loa, and it’s only two weeks to the celebration,” and he muttered something else under his breath that Amita didn’t catch.

He sat up properly now, and gestured for Amita to come closer; she did, her brows narrowed back in worry.

“When Busuzrah gets back, we’ll take your measurements. There’s a special outfit that is made for all the young men and women who are participating in the coming of age celebration, and we need to get it made for you as soon as possible. There’s also traditional wear we would need to have made for you as well. Secondly, did Vol tell you anything else about what might happen during the days of the celebration?”

“N-no,” Amita stammered, thrown off by Ral’gejan’s shift in demeanor. His seriousness was jarring.

“Hm,” he tapped his finger to his chin, and took a deep breath, “you’ve been on your own for a long time. What things did your muuka discuss with you?”

Amita reddened, “um… m-my heat… and um… that’s about it…”

“How old were you?”

“I-I was nine…”

His eyes widened, “oh! That’s quite early for a troll, but normal. Some girls get it earlier than others; some get it even later. Vanira didn’t get hers until she was twelve. You sound like a perfectly healthy young woman, Amita.”

She nodded her head. Ral’gejan’s words brought her a measure of comfort.

“Then there’s the matter of things you can try that are normally kept out of your reach; things that are advised against. You can feel free to try the more ‘adult’ drink known as alcohol. We have various brews, some more potent than others, and some mixed into more fruity concoctions. You are also free to smoke if you so choose, and if you do want to try that, I would be more than happy to show you how to properly use a pipe.”

Amita nodded her head again, eyes wide. This was certainly all information Vol had neglected to mention,  _ ‘but I doubt he forgot to mention it intentionally.’ _

“You will, of course, find your role in the tribe, either shortly after the celebration or a few weeks after. Don’t be too worried if you wind up waiting even a month or two before you finally have your place. That’s normal,” he offered Amita a smile she was familiar with, and she relaxed, “furthermore, even if you aren’t a hunter, you are allowed to go with the hunting parties to get food, regardless of where your role ends up being. Some trolls in the tribe end up with only one role; some end up with more; some end up with less. It’s all a matter of scheduling.”

“Oh! I didn’t know you could be assigned to more than one place…” Amita muttered, brushing her bangs out of her face, “but I guess that the hunters and warriors are pretty interchangeable.”

She wiggled in place when Ral’gejan’s smile broadened.

“Lastly, there’s the topic of sex - or, sexuality in general. You are welcome to pursue your interests, emotionally, physically, or otherwise. Lie with another, if that is your desire - when my celebration happened, most of us ran off to experiment with each other. It was something that was encouraged, and still is, to an extent, though we warn the younger generations of the risks involved if they choose to pursue sex before they’re adults. Children can be rather unexpected, especially when you are least prepared for them. A lot of experimentation is meant to teach you more about your body, and the pleasures and pains that come with that kind of intimacy…”

Ral’gejan trailed off. His eyes sparkled in amusement, and his expression was sympathetic.

Amita’s face, on the other hand, was  _ burning hot _ .

“You did mention that your muuka only spoke to you about your heat. I should have assumed that she never got the chance to speak to you about sex, eh?”

His laugh poured out of the hut when Amita grabbed the nearest soft object and shoved her face into it.

“If you want to talk about it--”

“NO THAT’S OKAY THANK YOU!!” she shrieked, jerking her face out of the pillow she’d snatched, “I… I um… I can uh…”

“Don’t ask Busuzrah,” Ral’gejan spoke lowly, his seriousness catching Amita off-guard once again, “she’ll take it  _ way  _ too far. Next thing you know she’ll be trying to set you up with one of the boys.”

Amita’s blush deepened. Her ears were now burning.

“Vanira asked me about it because her mother got  _ obsessed _ with setting up something between her and Vol.”

At this, Amita’s ears perked, “Vanira and Vol?”

“Yes, they’re rather close,” Ral’gejan nodded at Amita, “but I think that Vol’s interests have shifted. Perhaps that is obvious.”

Amita looked away when Ral’gejan grinned toothily at her. The heat had spread down her neck.

“You keep this up, old man, and I will become a red troll.”

Another boisterous laugh left Ral’gejan, and he pushed himself up to his feet, “I’m not trying to embarrass you, Amita - but if you want to know more, you can always ask. I will do my best to keep it from getting too awkward.”

She gave him a thankful smile, “thanks for the offer, Ral’gejan, but I think that I have someone I can ask about it.”

He returned her smile.

* * *

Tunari and Vanira had made it their mission to drag Amita off to the communal bathing area by the end of her third week. Most of the girls were already in the water, and here Amita sat, huddled behind a rock. Nervousness had been the initial culprit, but now Amita was growing more and more embarrassed with every second that passed.

“Amiiiita!! Come join us!!” that was Luxanai calling out, followed by a chorus of other voices. Amita hugged herself more tightly.

Being naked around her mother was one thing, but a bunch of girls she didn’t know that well? That was an  _ entirely _ separate issue. And they were all almost  _ adults _ . Maybe if they had still been kids, Amita would have been more comfortable with it; or maybe if it was a smaller group, and consisted only of the other girls that were Amita’s year mates. She knew Vanira, Tunari, and Luxanai well, knew Zen’tabra decently, and was familiar with Ortezza. She was becoming better acquaintances with Kijara and Notera, who were often at the raptor pens shadowing Kijara’s father. Nekali - a shaman alongside Vanira - was elusive. Ardsami’s boisterous laugh made Amita’s ears flick;

_ ‘I’ve been here two weeks and I still hardly know anyone…’ _ Amita hugged her legs closer. A shiver travelled along her spine when a breeze swept over the area. She recalled catching a glimpse of Ravika, an able bodied woman who appeared in the warrior class every now and then. Torenda, and Moraya had appeared in Amita’s vision not too soon after, and while the latter had caught Amita looking and waved, Amita had grown too embarrassed and ducked behind the rock.

_ ‘... did I make her feel bad?’ _ Amita wondered, making ill attempts at pushing down more of her anxieties,  _ ‘I wonder when I’ll get the chance to go back to the Dream. Maybe I need to  _ **_make_ ** _ a chance. Maybe I shouldn’t always just use tiredness as an excuse… I could go back to that spot I found a couple of days ago,’ _ she frowned, and twisted her fingers in her hair. She’d toy with her pendant, but she had tucked that away in the hut, leaving it to rest on a stack of parchment papers.

The secluded spot she had managed to find was a way down the beach, nestled between tall rocks. She could practice her ballet there without being interrupted, and though some children had stumbled across her, Amita had thought nothing of it. They’d stared at her in awe as she practiced her pliés, spins, and various other positions - including the short routine Lessa’oh had been showing her.

When the tide came in, there was less space to dance, but Amita had grown to enjoy dancing through the shallow water. It was more difficult when it was calf deep, but she felt that with time, it would become easier.

“Amita?”

She jolted out of her thoughts, looking up at Vanira. The shaman was concerned, and Amita looked down at the ground, ashamed.

“Sorry…”

“Wha-- no, don’t be sorry, Amita,” Vanira crouched, and Amita couldn’t stop a small smile when she noticed that the shaman was doing her best to cover herself with her arms, “are you uncomfortable? You can always go to one of the private baths! You don’t have to be here with us. Hira goes to the private baths, so...”

Amita dug her claws into her arms. So weird, so strange, so different; she was odd, she was quirky, she was  _ wild _ \--

Vanira cupped her cheek in one hand, “Amita, it’s okay.”

“Okay…”

“This is still new to you, y’know?” Vanira giggled a little, which made Amita look up at her quizzically, “some of the others thought that because you were in the jungles, bathing with others would be like second nature.”

Amita shook her head, relaxing, “I can see why they would think that…”

Vanira’s hand shifted to her shoulder, “you have a lot of hair, you know. We can help you wash it! And braid it! I know that you haven’t gotten to know Nekali that well, but she’s the best at braiding.”

Malfurion flashed through Amita’s mind. She was always saddened when she had to take his braids out, whether it be because her hair was in  _ desperate _ need of being washed, or because the flowers were dry and breaking apart in her hair.

“Just… give me a few more minutes…”

Vanira beamed at her, then got up and quickly walked back to the pool. Amita listened as Vanira shushed those that questioned why Amita hadn’t joined them yet, and barely heard whatever else the shaman had said. Perhaps she should take Vanira’s advice, and go to the large hut where multiple personal baths were drawn.

She shook her head, scowling at the ground,  _ ‘no, I told Vanira to give me a few minutes. I should go. It’s the only way I’ll get used to it.’ _

Amita got to her feet, and pulled her hair over her shoulders, combing her fingers through her hair nervously. She’d already undressed in a hut not far from the pool, where the girls had also set out a change of clothes.

She poked her head around the rock, squinting at the pool.

Luxanai was absolutely  _ enthused _ to see her, “‘MITA!!”

An’jen tried to calm the excited girl down while Aludur waded toward the edge of the rock pool as Amita tentatively approached. Aludur held out her hand to Amita, expression as serious as it was during training, “I’ll help you down. It can be quite slippery on the rocks.”

Amita accepted Aludur’s hand, gripping it tightly. Luxanai had escaped An’jen’s grasp and was swimming toward the precarious steps, overflowing with excitement. Amita focused her attention on the water first. She shivered at the first step in; it wasn’t too cold, but it was colder than the humid air that had settled in the jungle. Some of the girls were sitting on the edges, dangling their feet in the water, chattering to one another as Amita finally got off the rocks. The floor of the pool was sandy. Aludur released Amita’s hand.

“I’m so glad you joined us!!” Luxanai exclaimed. She practically jumped onto Amita, who stiffened considerably at the contact. The hunter withdrew, confusion and worry written over her features. Amita stared at her for a moment.

“... sorry, Ani, I’m not used to hugs when I’m… y’know…” she gestured to herself, then sunk under the water to hide. Luxanai blinked at her - then blushed, eyes wide, and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Oh… right um… I’ll just…” Luxanai was soon twisting her hands in her hair, “I’ll just go, um, back over there…”

Frowning, Amita reached up to poke Luxanai in the side. The fiery girl looked down at her, pouting.

“I’m not used to it,” Amita reiterated, raising her head out of the water, “that doesn’t mean I want you to go away.”

“Oh!” Luxanai beamed, and stayed by Amita’s side. She chattered happily with Ortezza when the other hunter swam over, and Amita took the moment to observe the area. The girls sitting on the edges of the pool were now busy doing one another’s hair. In the water, everyone took turns washing one another’s hair. Amita tugged her fingers through hers.

“Vanira said that I should braid your hair?” a soft voice made Amita start. She looked to her left to find Nekali, head tilted curiously to the side. Amita slowly nodded her head, and Nekali gave her a kind smile.

“Well!! Let’s wash it first then, if you don’t mind?”

Amita glanced around for Vanira. She was busy washing Ortezza’s hair.

“I mean… that makes the  _ most _ sense,” Amita mused, then ducked entirely under the water.

It was a pleasant feeling once she’d gotten over her initial embarrassment. Bathing with the other girls wasn’t nearly as stressful as Amita had thought, and the way Nekali threaded her fingers through Amita’s hair as she washed it briefly reminded Amita of Alba’vida.

_ ‘This is pretty nice. I hope I can get used to it.’ _

_ ‘You aren’t plannin’ on stayin’,’ _ the ever cynical voice in the back of Amita’s mind snarled, ‘ _ Sunshine didn’t  _ **_catch_ ** _ you. That was part of the deal. That was the only way you’d stay; only if sunshine  _ **_caught you_ ** _.’ _

Amita frowned, and dove under the water, startling Nekali and making Luxanai yelp. Ortezza’s laughter was muted by the water as Amita watched soap suds filter out of her hair. When that was done - she’d aggressively raked her hands through her hair to help the process - Amita turned over to stare up through the water. The sky was beautiful, and the water was so clear that the colors were as vibrant as they would be if Amita were looking at the sky with no filter.

Blue gave way to yellow, and orange, and red. The sun was taking its sweet time setting, even though the winter months were not yet past. Amita closed her eyes, and then stood upright.

This pool was shallow enough for her to stand, and deep enough to reach right up to her shoulders when she did. Nekali had followed as she floated along, and handed Amita a bar of soap, “here.”

Amita muttered her thanks, then made quick work of washing the rest of her body. Her face, under her arms, over her chest, her more private areas, and her feet. Aludur helped her, and several of the other girls out of the water; Ravika helped as well. Amita accepted the towel that Vanira handed her, though she was unsure where the towel had even come from,  _ ‘I didn’t see a pile of them anywhere… hm?’ _

Her eyes had drifted back over to the pool, where An’jen remained. She was leaning against the lip of the pool, her gaze focused on Aludur. Said gaze was suspiciously similar to the way that Naralex had looked at Lessa’oh before, and Amita glanced down at her feet, brows furrowed in confusion. When she looked up again, nothing appeared to have changed. Aludur’s eyes were focused on the group as they slowly made their way back to the changing hut, her brows furrowed. It was clear she was worried for their safety, especially since most of them were still wet, and as she had mentioned when Amita joined them, the rocks were slippery. They’d only become more slippery as the girls went.

Amita was about to follow after Nekali called to her, but she noticed Aludur shift her gaze to An’jen.

It seemed that there was a mutual interest between the two of them, if the small smirk that pulled at Aludur’s lips was anything to go by. Again, Amita was reminded of the times she’d unwittingly caught Lessa’oh and Naralex exchanging glances.

Denjai tended to look at Amita the same way, Amita realized.

Shaking her head, Amita hurried after the other girls.  _ If _ the interest between Aludur and An’jen was anything like the interest between Lessa’oh and Naralex, Amita figured it would be best to let them have their privacy,  _ ‘I really,  _ **_really_ ** _ need to meditate tonight. I need to find Lessa’oh, and Naralex, and I need to talk to them. I’m so lost, and even if talking to Ral’gejan about it might be easy… Ugh! It’d be so awkward! I need to talk to people I know!’ _

Once back at the changing hut, Amita sat on the ground - after she’d gotten dressed in a simple top, and wrap skirt, of course - and let Nekali braid her hair. From there, she and Vanira bid the other girls good night, and headed on their way back to the hut.

“Hmm!” Vanira danced around Amita when the two were back in the hut, “as always, Nekali does a great job! Did you like it?”

Amita nibbled on a fingernail, “um… yes. Both the bath, and the braiding. It was… it wasn’t as bad as I thought it… might be…”

Vanira giggled happily, “oh!! I’m glad! And thankfully none of the boys were up to their usual antics!”

“ _ Usual  _ **_antics?_ ** ” Amita repeated, aghast. Vanira nodded her head, her expression overcome by annoyance.

“Legati is the worst for it. He likes to hide in the ferns and watch sometimes. Zabraz and Voldreka are terrible too!”

“And… Vol?” Amita ventured, voice a whisper. Vanira’s eyes sparkled.

“Just once.”

“Once!?”

“Once. Um, if I recall correctly, I think Legati shoved him out of the ferns, and then took off. Vol stared at us for like, a second, then went racing after Legati. He looked angry,” she giggled, “red and angry.”

Amita pressed her fingers to her cheeks.

“Aww, would the moon perhaps not be so shy if the sun tried to peek~?”

“Yes--  _ NO!! _ ” Amita shrieked, unsure why she was suddenly breathless, and Vanira covered her mouth with both hands to conceal her laughter, “y’know!! If Vol was there, then  _ Zalazane _ was probably there too!”

Vanira’s laugh was choked by a gasp, and Vanira slapped at Amita’s arm, “he was not!!”

“Zalazane is like a mini-sun! He follows Vol  _ everywhere _ ! He was  _ totally there too!! _ ” Amita insisted, and soon she was slapping Vanira’s hands away from her arm. Her jaw hurt from smiling so much as Vanira’s cheeks only reddened.

“This happened so long ago it doesn’t matter!” Vanira shrieked, then clapped her hands over her mouth again. Amita spun around, laughing, and then swung down to grab her folded up mat, unwittingly sticking her other leg straight up, as if she were performing an arabesque. When she touched back down to the mat, bending her knees to soften the fall, she caught Vanira’s eye.

“... you’re. Flexible?” Vanira wondered, tilting her head. Amita was certain that a bead of sweat just rolled down her forehead.

“Y-yes!” she finally stammered, clutching her mat closely. She gestured to a corner of the room, “I um… I need to meditate.”

“Meditate… like… the witch doctors do?”

“Yeah!” Amita chirped. She wasn’t sure if it was a lie, because she didn’t know  _ how _ the witch doctors meditated, “I don’t respond, or anythin’ like that when I’m meditatin’. The world, uh, gets kinda’ dead to me, I guess.”

Vanira nodded her head, “I’ll let my parents know you’re meditating if they get back while you’re still dead to the world, as you say.”

“Thanks, Vanira.”

Five minutes later, and Amita had set herself up in a corner of the hut. She crossed her legs, draped her arms over her knees, and closed her eyes.

_ She was not in the Emerald Dream for more than four seconds before she was tackled. _

_ Amita yelped, and then found herself grappling with Clintar after he had barreled her over. His face was red, eyes bright with tears, and Amita shifted into a cobra. _

_ “THAT’S  _ **_CHEATING!_ ** _ ” he yelled, turning into a bear and charging after her. Amita made a beeline for the clearing. She could hear the pain in his voice. _

_ Naralex cut her off, in his own cobra form, and coiled around her. It was loose. Amita coiled around him as well. Clintar must have skid to a stop; Amita could hear him panting nearby. _

_ She wasn’t sure when both her, and Naralex, had shifted back into their respective humanoid forms. She took comfort in clinging to him, and in him clinging to her. Lessa’oh’s voice called out, as did Malfurion’s, and soon Amita found herself in the middle of a warm group hug. _

_ “Where have you  _ **_been?_ ** _ ” Malfurion demanded. Amita could feel his grip tighten, even if he wasn’t directly hugging her, “you haven’t come to the Dream in  _ **_weeks!_ ** _ ” _

_ “We’ve been so worried!” Lessa’oh said, and Amita could hear that worry easily in her voice. She untangled herself from the three teachers after noticing that her druid-mates had gathered nearby. They looked varying degrees of happy, and sad, and hurt. _

_ She gestured to them, setting her green gaze on her teachers for a moment more, “um, I tink I be needin’ a minute first, since it do be a long time since I be here… n-not intentionally, I be promisin’.” _

_ Lessa’oh and Naralex both wiped at their faces, while Malfurion sighed in relief. He rose to his feet, “of course, we will give you a moment.” _

_ Not a second after Amita got up to go to her druid-mates did she find herself flat on her back as Clintar tackled her again. The emotional druid wailed against her shoulder, exclaiming that he had just  _ **_missed_ ** _ her so much. Amita did her best to shush him, threading her fingers through his hair, content for now to simply let him pin her to the floor. _

_ To Amita’s surprise, Fandral pulled Clintar off of her. _

_ “She has others that she needs to say hello to, Clintar,” the elder druid growled. Amita intended to give Fandral her best scowl, but when she caught sight of the relief that crossed his face, her desire to glare at him faded. She was unsure of what to make of that,  _ ‘Fandral never seemed to really care about me… I didn’t think I would have worried him too _.’ _

_ Lathorius and Lilliandra were next, embracing her at the same time. Amita’s heart swelled; she apologized to them, ensuring them she would explain once she had spoken to Naralex, and Lessa’oh. Mar’alith was next, followed immediately by Rabine, then Thisalee. She still hadn’t grown much since Amita had last seen her, and certainly tried to curl herself up under Amita’s chin - though Thisalee’s grip was tight, and as the minutes ticked by, Amita wondered if Thisalee would ever let her go. _

_ “A-at least give us… give us a warning next time,” Thisalee choked out against Amita’s chest, “I was so scared something had happened to you…” _

_ “I be sorreh, T’isalee,” Amita muttered, doing her best to hold back her own tears. Loa, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed them. _

_ “By Elune, you scared us so--so badly,” Ysiel wiped shaikly at her eyes. Amita bit her lip. She and Ysiel appraised each other until Thisalee finally released Amita - and of course, Amita and Ysiel embraced tightly. Amita fought against crying now. Five minutes she spent tightly holding Ysiel. At some point, Amita found herself rocking back and forth. _

_ It was too soon when a hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Amita reluctantly pulled away from Ysiel. Elerethe stood behind her, and similar to how relief had washed over Fandral’s face, Elerethe appeared as relieved, “I’m glad to see that you’re alright. We had begun to believe the worst.” _

_ Amita blinked and looked away, “I… I be sorreh. Um… Naralex?” _

_ He was by her side in an instant, hand on her upper back, “yes?” _

_ “I um…” she flushed, quickly wiping at her eyes to get rid of the unshed tears, “I… well. I tink I bettah start wit’ where I be. De, um, de boy I be tellin’ you about?” _

_ Naralex nodded encouragement, and Amita did not miss how his eyes glowed more brightly, and how his lips had turned up in a hopeful smile. _

_ “He be convincin’ me ta be comin’ to de village. So. Dat’s where I be. I could be hardly findin’ de time ta meditate, I been so busy. I still be needin’ ta get prepared fah de comin’ o’ age celebration,, um, dat be in two weeks… m-maybe one week now. It be comin’ too fast fah me. Um… I tink I might be gettin’ ta meet my chaa--aa fathah soon, but--!” _

_ “That’s  _ **_wonderful_ ** _ news!!” Naralex laughed, jerking her into a hug. His voice was a whisper when he spoke again, “I am so proud of you.” _

_ Amita buried her face in his chest as best she could, and not hurt him with her tusks. Soon, she was wrapping her arms around him, taking comfort in his embrace. Lessa’oh complained that she was yet to get her own personal hug, and Naralex suddenly picked Amita up and ran off with her, “no!! She’s mine!” _

_ “NARALEX YOU COME BACK HERE WITH HER RIGHT NOW!!” Lessa’oh screeched, and Amita lost track of how long Lessa’oh chased Naralex back and forth until Malfurion brought a stop to all their fun with entangling roots. Amita was wheezing from laughter. Several of her druid-mates lay on the ground, clutching their stomachs, and Fandral was red-faced from trying his damndest not to find the situation amusing. _

_ Once everyone had calmed down - and Lessa'oh had gotten her own hug, of course - Amita was able to pull Naralex and Lessa'oh to the side. Heat was already rising to her cheeks at the thought of needing to have this conversation. _

_ “Dere be sometin’ I wanna’ talk ta you an’ Lessa’oh about.” _

_ “Not me?” _

_ The three laughed at Malfurion’s obvious pout. He sounded so dejected, and Amita giggled nervously. An obvious blush dusted her cheeks, “i-it be a little bit awkward fah me!! Ta even, um, be mentionin’!!” _

_ Realization lit up Lessa’oh’s face. Amita pressed her lips together, fiddling with her dress, and stared at the ground. _

_ “One moment, Amita,” the elder woman said, then grabbed both Naralex and Malfurion by the bicep. As she dragged them away, speaking in a hushed tone, Amita turned her attention to her druid-mates. _

_ She elaborated on what she had brought up earlier, about Vol convincing her to come to the village for the coming of age celebration. When they asked, Amita again did her best to give her druid-mates the condensed version of the celebration.  _

_ “When’s the celebration happening?” Yseil inquired, eyes pulsating. Amita pouted; she was still unsure. _

_ “In ‘bout a week or so, I tink,” she said, taking a breath, “I still don't be havin' everyting dat I need fah it… like de special clothes. Loa,” Amita pressed her hands to her cheeks, “I tink dat it be closah den I be anticipatin’... I be measured sometime last week, an’ dey be frantically tryna’ get everyting stitched tagethah fah me…” _

_ “I’m sure you’ll be fine!” Lathorius smiled when Amita looked up at him, as did his twin, “it  _ **_does_ ** _ sound like a lot of fun! Kind of like how we night elves celebrate birthdays.” _

_ Amita nodded her head, “yeah.” _

_ “We’re ready, Amita,” Lessa’oh called. Amita took another breath, gave her friends a wave, and turned. Malfurion was standing off to the side, moping, while Naralex and Lessa’oh stood side by side. Amita followed them, muttering an apology to Malfurion, and soon enough the three were sitting near one of the many druidic stones. _

_ “So! You want to know about sex and romance,” Lessa’oh began, “as if Naralex and I haven’t unintentionally given you some ideas about that already.” _

_ Amita toyed with her fingers, a blush rising to her cheeks. She could only nod her head. _

_ “You don’t need to be embarrassed, Amita,” Naralex said softly, reaching out to grasp one of her hands, and then he continued dramatically, “why, I remember my first time clear as day!” _

_ “Oh you do not!” Lessa’oh snapped, smacking him on the shoulder. Naralex continued, unperturbed; _

_ “We were both young, and curious, and had not asked our parents about it before we jumped right in! Kind of literally,” he gave Amita a wink. She giggled, and Naralex pressed on, “I had no idea how her body worked, and she had no idea how mine worked, but we squirmed around for a little bit and the next thing I knew!” _

_ He pulled his hand away from Amita’s, and made a half-sun gesture above his head, “orgasm.” _

_ Lessa’oh intended to slap him on the shoulder again, but she’d fallen into a fit of laughter. Naralex's casual behavior towards the topic helped diminish the odd sense of shame Amita had for bringing it up. _

_ They started with biology, and how men and women differed. Amita knew most things about a woman’s body, naturally, and she took a keen interest when Naralex explained the structure of a man’s body. _

_ “Men are also notorious for getting erections at the most _ **_inopportune_ ** _ moments,” Naralex lamented. Amira tilted her head at him. _

_ “Erection?” she repeated, and Naralex nodded his head. _

_ “You know how cold air can sometimes make your nipples get perky?” he asked; Amita nodded, and Naralex continued, “it can be similar for erections. Blood rushes down, and the noodle between my legs then decides he wants everyone to know that he exists.” _

_ Lessa’oh sputtered with laughter, and somehow, Naralex maintained a straight face, “and the noodle then becomes a rod. A solid rod.” _

_ Amita buried her face in her hands to stifle her laugh, “N-Naralex, please, d-de mental images--” _

_ “Suffer the mental images!! Of the  _ **_noodle!!_ ** _ ” he exclaimed, throwing his arms into the air - and he finally cracked, doubling over to press his forehead to the grass. The conversation did not proceed until all three had gotten their laughter under control. _

_ “But let’s talk more about that. Just like how cold air can cause nipples to become stiff, unwanted attention can result in the same. Your body may have a reaction to something that you don’t want,” Naralex’s brows narrowed back, “it’s important to be able to distinguish that, and it’s important to make sure that when you say no, that the other person respects that.” _

_ “And  _ **_anyone_ ** _ who tries to claim that ‘your mouth says no but your body says yes’ is someone that you immediately need to kick between the legs,” Lessa’oh added vehemently, “that, and you don’t owe anyone anything if they do a favor for you with the implication that you don’t need to do anything for them in return. You especially do not owe them sex. Don’t  _ **_ever_ ** _ let somebody try to hold that over your head.” _

_ Amita blinked, taken aback by the shift of mood. Naralex reached over to grasp one of Lessa’oh’s hands, and the older woman looked away. _

_ “On that same topic, I’d like to bring up how affectionate you are, Amita,” his tone was serious, “there are people who may also try to use that against you - especially people you might not be interested in. There is nothing wrong with being affectionate toward friends, and by no means implies that you are ‘secretly’ interested in them.” _

_ The young troll’s mind buzzed, “bu’... would’n… um…” _

_ Naralex smiled kindly, “while it’s not as common, you will come across men who like other men, and women who like other women. You will even come across people who like both men, and women - and by ‘like’, I mean have an interest in sexually and romantically.” _

_ Amita pressed her lips together tightly, and Naralex elaborated, “in most cases, your friends will not assume that you are romantically, or sexually interested if you simply hug them. It is other people that will, and other people who will try to tell you what your sexuality is. You are allowed to kick those people between the legs, because they have no right to tell you who you are and are not interested in, just because you happen to be an affectionate individual.” _

_ “I… I tink I be understandin’,” Amita said, her mind immediately going to the brief interaction she had seen between Aludur and An’jen, “bu’... how do I be makin’ it obvious who I be likin’?” _

_ “That’s up to you. Some people are upfront, and some are more subtle,” he laughed softly, squeezing Lessa’oh’s hand. She had still not turned her face back toward Amita, “you by no means have to prove your interests, Amita. That’s something you’ll learn as you grow. The only opinion that will matter in regards to who you like romantically, and who you don’t like romantically, is yours. Everyone else can take a hike.” _

_ She nodded her head, and looked down at the grass. Silence settled between the trio, and Amita tuned out to Naralex’s gentle whispers to Lessa’oh. It was clear to Amita that Lessa’oh had first hand experience with being forced into a situation she did not desire, while Naralex spoke as though he were familiar with other people trying to tell him who he was interested in, as if he did not know himself. _

_ It made an uncomfortable weight settle in Amita’s chest. _

_ “The best you can do is be confident in who you are. You like to hug your friends. Perhaps you even like to give them kisses on their foreheads, or cheeks. I think that’s wonderful!” Naralex broke the silence. Amita looked up at him, and the weight in her chest began to lift. _

_ “I do be likin’ hugs. I will be havin’ my hugs, an’ ev’ryone else can be takin’ a hike.” _

_ He beamed, “yes, exactly. Fight back when it’s something you  _ **_don’t_ ** _ want, and accept it whole-heartedly when it’s something you  _ **_do_ ** _ want.” _

_ “Dat be makin’ sense.” _

_ Naralex pulled Lessa’oh against his side, rubbing his hand up and down her bicep, “see? She gets it, Lessa’oh. We’ve raised her well.” _

_ A wet laugh escaped the woman, “we have.” _

_ “Now back to dicks,” Naralex said, causing Lessa’oh to laugh more loudly, “lube is important. Lube is important in most sexual situations, but especially with not-limp noodles.” _

_ Amita sputtered on a laugh, “a-an’ why be d-dat?” _

_ “Chaffing,” Naralex said seriously, though the over dramatic expression he gave Amita made her wonder just  _ **_how_ ** _ serious he was being, “I personally get too excited sometimes, and then there’s chaffing, and it hurts, and I don’t enjoy it, but I forget lotion even though I know I don’t like the results of forgetting it.” _

_ “Naralex by Elune--” _

_ “You know what sucks!” Naralex continued, unabashed, “is that you ladies get  _ **_self_ ** _ lube! How unfair!” _

_ “Well men get it too!!” Lessa’oh countered, “it… it just takes longer for you to get it-- don’t look at me like that.” _

_ When Naralex turned his unimpressed expression to Amita, she burst into yet another fit of laughter. Lessa’oh huffed, and leaned comfortably against Naralex’s shoulder. Amita was glad to see her relax again. _

_ “Oh, I completely bypassed mentioning that while erections can happen for no reason at all, literally none, I could be thinking about a horrible massacre and BAM, my limp noodle is a rod and I can’t explain that situation to  _ **_anyone_ ** _ ,” Naralex’s mouth twitched into a broad smile when his commentary brought about yet  _ **_another_ ** _ fit of laughter from the two women, “but it’s usually caused by arousal. Similarly, women can get what’s called ‘wet’ when they’re aroused - and again, both these things can happen even when the attention is unwanted.” _

_ “Bu’ wat if I be likin’ de attention?” Amita asked. _

_ “Then let it be known! Tell the boy that you like what he’s doing! And if it’s harder to speak, you can, for example, guide his hands. Or hold his head in place,” Naralex had his arm wrapped around Lessa’oh’s shoulders now, “it’s important to be vocal, though. In both instances where it’s something you want, and something you  _ **_don’t_ ** _ want. You may also run into situations where you feel pressured.” _

_ “Don’t… don’t feel bad if you do give into the pressure,” Lessa’oh muttered, finally raising her gaze. Amita could just barely see the tear streaks on her cheeks, “sometimes you might feel trapped, that you have no other choice but to give in. Sometimes giving in means the difference between your safety, and your being hurt.” _

_ Amita’s ears pinned back, “ah…” _

_ “Rape is a very serious issue,” Naralex said quietly, “and it’s difficult to tell others when it happens, because a lot of shame can come with it. Sometimes you might think you deserved it, or that you secretly wanted it - because again, bodies react even when you don’t want what is being done to you. And some people just refuse to listen when you say no.” _

_ “Well if dey don’ be listenin’ den I’ll jus’ be entanglin’ dem an’ see how dey like dat!!” Amita snapped. The topic of rape was making Lessa’oh visibly uncomfortable, and Amita felt the fierce urge to prove she could protect herself, “or I’ll jus’ be turnin’ inta a hydra. An’ den I’ll sit on dem. An’ see how dey like gettin’ crushed by big hydra ass.” _

_ Both her teachers burst into surprised laughter, and Amita let herself relax. _

_ “Wat else should I be knowin’?” Amita asked after a few minutes. Naralex released a long hum, and Lessa’oh leaned more heavily against him. _

_ “We’ve already discussed flirting… abstinence no… birth control… contraceptives… preferences… oh!! Foreplay!” _

_ He grunted when Lessa’oh elbowed him, “Naralex!” _

_ “What?! Foreplay is important!!” he turned his attention to Amita, “foreplay helps get the blood going down to all the important parts~” _

_ “Like the noodle?” _

_ “Like the noodle,” he nodded, fighting against a broad smile at Lessa’oh’s groan of dismay, “and foreplay goes hand in hand with telling someone what you like and don’t like. If you like having your neck kissed, encourage that. If you like being bitten, let the man know - and if you don’t like being bitten, again, let the man know!” _

_ “Wat else be countin’ as foreplay?” _

_ “Hm! Touching, stroking, biting, scratching, flirting, nuzzling, pulling at clothing, light candles, candle wax,” Lessa’oh listed off, “really, the list goes on. It’s different for everyone - that, and while foreplay is meant to get both parties aroused, sometimes… sometimes you’re just not in the mood. That can happen, and honestly? It can be embarrassing, especially if it’s someone you’re  _ **_really_ ** _ keen on.” _

_ Naralex hummed his agreement, and then moved on, “as for the other topics I muttered off, abstinence is when you deliberately refrain from having sex. It’s the simplest way to avoid anything like sexaully transmitted diseases - which are no fun at all, and we can talk about them another time - and it’s also the best way to avoid surprise baby.” _

_ Amita snorted, “su’prise babeh.” _

_ “Contraception and birth control are the same thing, and are the only options you have if you find you particularly enjoy sex and don’t want to give it up, despite the risks,” Lessa’oh said, toying with the ends of Naralex’s hair, “Naralex and I know a spell that has worked in ninety-nine percent of cases. There’s also a potion you can brew, which is as effective, and then there are condoms.” _

_ “Personally I would recommend the potion, or the spell,” Naralex interjected, his expression solemn, “it is an unfortunate truth that most men prioritize their preferences over a woman’s well being, and condoms are either vehemently argued against or removed at some point during sex, usually without the woman’s knowledge, or approval.” _

_ “The spell can be dispelled, of course, but only if the man you’re with  _ **_knows_ ** _ you’ve cast it, and has the ability to use magic to remove it. The potion, in this case, is the most reliable, and the most easily accessible,” Lessa’oh offered Amita a smile, “you’re incredibly magically gifted, so casting the spell should be easy for you.” _

_ “I-if you be sayin’ so,” Amita stammered. Lessa’oh’s smile widened. _

_ “I  _ **_know_ ** _ so.” _

_ “That’s not to say you shouldn’t exercise caution, of course! Even if the percentage is low, there is still always the chance that an unwanted pregnancy will happen.” _

_ Amita nodded, and Naralex exhaled. _

_ “I suppose we already touched on preferences, but, what  _ **_do_ ** _ you prefer, Amita? Men? Women? Both? Perhaps you are not enthused by the idea of sex at all?” _

_ Amita released a nervous giggle, “I don’ realleh be tinkin’ ‘bout it… b-but when I d-do, I be tinkin’ about boys.” _

_ Naralex laughed in good humor, and Lessa’oh smiled fondly at her, “I’m glad you know that about yourself. And again, don’t let anyone try to tell  _ **_you_ ** _ what  _ **_your_ ** _ attractions are. They aren’t you. They don’t know how you truly feel.” _

_ “An’ dat be why you be wantin’ to make sure I be understandin’ dat I be affectionate by nature, right?” _

_ “Right.” _

_ Amita hummed, running her fingers through her hair, “dere um… dere be dis boy--” _

_ “Your sun?” Lessa’oh interjected, and Amita shook her head vigorously. _

_ “N-no, he be a uh, shadow huntah… an’ he be real intahrested in me. W-we um, be flirtin’ back an’ forth, so I tink… I tink dat I should be readeh… just in case…” _

_ Both nodded, “we can teach you the spell tonight then. It’s rather simple.” _

_ “How will I be knowin’ dat it be workin’?” _

_ “You’ll feel like something down here has twisted,” Lessa’oh drew a circle on her navel, “that’s when you know the spell is working as intended - and, like with most spells, it does wear off over time. You’ll want to make sure you cast the spell an hour or so in advance to sexual intercourse. The potion is a bit more complicated for me to explain, but it does affect the hormones in your body.” _

_ Amita poured her focus into learning the spell - and, Lessa’oh had pulled her other druid-mates into the lesson. Ysiel, it seemed, already knew how to cast the spell, and - to Amita’s surprise - so did Clintar. _

_ “I um… I wanted to make sure that any woman I lied with uh… could take comfort in knowing I could cast the spell if they needed it,” he explained, his skin reddening with blush. Amita was relieved. It was a blessing to know that her druid-mates had gone through a similar experience. _

_ “OH!!” _

_ Lessa’oh’s exclamation startled Amita. She stared at her teacher, wide-eyed, as did all of her other druid-mates. _

_ “We didn’t mention!! You’ll want a towel, or an extra blanket, because oh my goodness,” she leaned toward Amita, looking from side to side, “sex is  _ **_messy_ ** _.” _

_ This brought up a chorus of dismay from everyone in the group, and Naralex laughed. _

_ “By Elune, I can’t believe we almost forgot that!” Naralex tsked, “sex is  _ **_very_ ** _ messy. You ladies can all get real sloppy down there, and some men can, uh,  _ **_give_ ** _ a little more than others.” _

_ Lessa’oh coughed into her hand, “more like give a  _ **_lot_ ** _ more than others.” _

_ “Then there’s sweat,” Naralex half-sang, and Amita joined in the chorus of her druid-mates begging the two to stop. It only encouraged them. _

_ “Naralex, how could you forget to mention saliva!” _

_ “Oh Elune! The drool! The  _ **_leakage!_ ** _ ” _

_ Laughter bubbled up Amita’s throat, and when she observed her other teachers, Fandral had his head in his hands, Elerethe was laughing as well, and Malfurion simply looked upon the group with adoration. _

_ Soon enough, they got back to focusing on the task at hand. Naralex spent another twenty minutes teaching the group the spell - or, in the case of Ysiel and Clintar, ensuring they could cast it properly. Amita squirmed in place, because as Lessa’oh had said, she did feel like certain parts of her internal organs had twisted. It caused mild discomfort. _

_ “I cast the spell on myself every day,” Ysiel whispered, having noticed Amita’s squirming, “it helps to adjust to it, to be honest. _

_ Amita nodded her head in understanding - and then she sighed, “I… I should be gettin’ back. I don’t be wantin’ them to be askin’ too many questions…” _

_ “Do you not trust them?” Naralex inquired; Amita shook her head. _

_ “I dunno’... I jus’ be rememberin’ how some o’ de night elves be reactin’ to  _ **_my_ ** _ presence,” she frowned, “I don’t be knowin’ how the trolls might be reactin’ ta knowin’ dat I be, um, bot’ a druid, an’ trainin’ wit’ night elves.” _

_ Naralex made a sound of understanding, “that makes sense. I just… hopefully things will quiet down for you soon. There are several other forms I still have to teach you…” _

_ “I know…” Amita heaved another sigh, “bu’ I bettah be goin’. I um, I be sorreh fah makin’ you all worry so much. I just be finally findin’ de time ta meditate.” _

Amita’s eyes fluttered open on the tail end of well wishes from her druid-mates, and demands that she come back soon.

She fully awoke to the sensation of wind in her face.

Vanira was frantically fanning Amita with a folded wood and paper structure.

“... um,” Amita began, only to be interrupted by a startled squeak from Vanira.

“AH!! AMITA!!” the shaman lowered her arms. Her fingers shook, suggesting that she’d been fanning Amita for quite some time, “there you are!”

“Of course I am-- oh. Oooooh,” Amita gingerly touched her own cheeks. Hot. Like she was on fire. She gave Vanira a thankful - if embarrassed - smile.

“Thanks… I think.”

“Why are you so  _ red!? _ I don’t recall anyone turning red when they're meditating!!!”

“Th-that's because, I um, I was doin’ some strenuous activity!! While meditatin’,” Amita grasped for reasoning. Vanira was giving her a look, and Amita got to her feet, “what time is it anyway?”

Vanira frowned. Amita pursed her lips humorously, “well?”

“It's sundown,” Vanira relented, gesturing outside, “the boys are already up to no good. And Ortezza is with them.”

Amita giggled, “up to no good, hm~?”

Vanira looped her arm around Amita’s, and soon the shaman was leading the druid out of the hut. In the time that Amita had been meditating, more lights had been set up around the village; the ones in the distance looked like stars. Amita followed wherever it was that Vanira was leading her, and soon enough, Amita found herself at a bonfire. Her ears flicked every which way.

Her eyes trailed over everyone present. While Vanira had said the boys and Ortezza were up to no good, Zalazane and Vol were present at the bonfire. Even Legati was there, sitting close to Luxanai, and she would have  _ definitely _ expected Legati of all people would be up to no good.

“I thought you said the boys were up to no good”? Amita prodded. Vanira scrunched up her face.

“I mean, I did, but I didn’t mean Zal, and Vol.”

“So not  _ your _ boys,” Amita teased. Vanira flushed, and was about to retort, when a collective, disappointed sigh rose from the group.

“Oh, here they come,” Zalazane muttered. Ortezza went racing past, eyes wide with fright, Zabraz on her heels. Voldreka dove into those seated on the logs, and tried to get everyone to shush when they questioned his actions.

“What the hell--”

“What did you guys  _ do _ ?!” came many harsh whispers.

“Shut up, shut up!” Voldreka hissed, “it woulda’ been  _ fine _ if it was just Rokhan!”

Curious, Amita looked over her shoulder. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary, and she could pick up on the soft mutterings of both Zabraz and Oretezza; obviously they hadn’t gone far.

“What  _ did _ you do?” she asked. Voldreka poked his head out from behind Tunari, whom he’d sought refuge in, and before answering Amita, nervously looked in the direction he and his compatriots, had come from.

“So… there were some murlocs.”

“Oh Loa,” Vol said, already exasperated. Vanira and Amita took a seat on the logs opposite him and Zalazane.

“A-and we were just getting their attention! We didn’t  _ know _ that some of the littler kids were nearby! Besides, Rokhan was there, so a coupla’ murlocs wouldn’t be a problem for him…”

“That isn’t the point!!” Ortezza called, clearly risking giving herself away, “the point is, we were tryna’ prank Rokhan with some harmless murlocs, and there were littler kids nearby who were gettin’ the murlocs’ attention, and-- oh  _ Loa _ here he comes.”

The young huntress disappeared, and Amita caught a glimpse of Zabraz shuffling further behind some crates.

Looking over her shoulder again, she spotted coiling shadows.

_ ‘Must be Denjai, since he and Rokhan are usually paired up for shadow hunter duties,’  _ Amita mused, watching the shadows rise and fall.  _ Both _ Rokhan and Denjai were easy going fellows, but if the resident troublemakers had gotten the attention of a pack of murlocs, and  _ then _ those murlocs had gotten distracted by younger children who couldn’t defend themselves, she could see why the shadow hunters would get frustrated.

When Denjai came fully into view, morphing out of the shadows, Amita had to admit that he looked absolutely terrifying. He dragged the tip of his glaive along the ground, leaving a groove in the sand as he walked menacingly forward.

“I can’t say I ever imagined you with hair, but that seaweed looks  _ real _ good on you,” Amita chirped, trying to lighten the mood.

Denjai’s mouth lifted in a good-humored smile amidst the laughter that rose up from the group, “oi, oi, oi. Careful there, little moon.”

Amita quirked a brow, leaning her cheek against her hand for a moment before rising to her feet. She felt several pairs of eyes on her back as she approached the shadow hunter. He both watched her approach, and sought out the cause of his seaweed hair.

“Here,” Amita reached up and peeled the seaweed off his head. She wrinkled her nose, holding it delicately away from her person before flicking it to the side. Denjai’s hand pressed into her lower back, bringing her a smidgen closer.

Her eyes sparkled, and she could have sworn she heard a soft gasp from someone in the group when Denjai leaned down, pursing his lips a mere millimeter from hers. Like he was kissing the air she breathed.

“You’re getting brighter, Amita~”

Amita giggled, twirling some hair around her finger, “you aren’t  _ really _ angry, are you?”

“No, the murlocs are mostly harmless with Rokhan and I around. Doesn’t mean  _ somebodies  _ aren’t in trouble,” Denjai chuckled.

Voldreka squeaked, and Denjai was gone. Amita’s surprise was delayed, and she quickly spun around to find Denjai had already caught the warlock, and had him slung over a shoulder.

“I don’t appreciate having seaweed thrown in my face!” the shadow hunter announced. Voldreka pleaded for mercy. Denjai ignored his pleas, of course, eyes scouring the area for Zabraz and Ortezza.

For whatever reason, Vol was standing, his mouth turned down in an exaggerated frown as he all but glared at Denjai. Amita’s brows furrowed in confusion,  _ ‘I wonder why...’ _

“Now where are the other two hm?” the question was directed at Voldreka, from Denjai of course.

“I dunno!”

“Iiii’m  _ pretty _ sure you know.”

“I don’t-- GODS!! STOP!!” Voldreka laughed. Amita was bemused. She hadn’t anticipated that when Denjai said “trouble”, he meant he’d be tickling the younger troll relentlessly.

“I won’t stop ‘less you tell me where they are!”

A yelp, followed by a squeak, had Denjai laughing boisterously. His laughter was contagious. Amita couldn’t help it herself, and Vol’s lips fought between clinging to his frown and joining in the laughter.

“Looks like Rokhan found them,” Denjai whistled, stooping to scoop up his glaive while keeping Voldreka over his shoulder.

“You three are gonna’ come with us,” Rokhan said, holding Ortezza and Zabraz by the backs of their necks. He was calm, eyes glittering in good nature, “‘cuz you put little ones in danger, and you need to be properly disciplined~”

The trio groaned, and Vanira muttered “I told you guys and you didn’t listen”, followed by agreement from some of the other kids. Amita shuffled her way back to the group. She contemplated sitting back down but…

It had been a while since she’d been able to talk to Vol.

He seemed to feel the same way, because when Amita looked up at him, he was already looking at her. Quietly, Amita walked away from the fire, clasping her hands behind her back. No one noticed her departure, and she was grateful. They were busy chatting amongst themselves, talking about their days, or excitedly bringing up the ceremony.

Once Amita made it to a more secluded area, she peered at the group. Vol had sat back down for the moment, nudging Zalazane with his foot. Vanira was in an animated discussion with Tunari, while Soratha had his nose buried in a book, as per usual. 

Amita hadn’t noticed before, but from where she stood now, she could see Legati and Luxanai sitting close to each other. The rogue was holding the hunter’s hand, mouth pressed close to Luxanai’s ear. She giggled, releasing his hand in favor of running it along his thigh.

“Oh my Loa you two,  _ get a room _ .”

“They’re too young!!”

“They are not, the ceremony isn’t far off!”

Amita giggled from her spot. Luxanai was blushing fiercely, and Legati was giving everyone a disgruntled look.

“You all mind your own business…”

“Kinda’ hard when you’re  _ growling _ at her, Legati.”

He opened his mouth to argue, then decided against it. Firelight danced over his skin, and Amita was relieved when Legati defiantly grabbed Luxanai’s hand again and kissed her knuckles.

“I’m goin’ for a walk,” Amita heard Vol say. The statement was followed hastily by, “alone. Let me be for two minutes - actually, twenty.  _ Twenty.” _

Someone grumbled, others laughed, and she heard soft steps against the sand soon enough. She leaned against the crates that were stacked behind a hut, shuffling her feet, drawing patterns in the sand with her toes.

Vol’s hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“Hey.”

“Hey, sunshine,” she returned, offering him a smile. His mouth quirked up at the corners, and his hand slipped off her shoulder.

“Sooo…” he began, a nervous note on his voice, “how do you like it?”

Amita giggled, then stared at her feet, “um… it’s nice.”

“Just nice?” he sounded worried. Amita brushed some of her bangs out of her eyes.

“I mean, it would be better if I got to see  _ you _ more, sunshine~”

Vol blushed despite himself.

“You and I both, moonlight,” he purred, “but my training gets more intense the closer we get to the ceremony. Rokhan really wants me to join their ranks as soon as possible.”

“Just Rokhan?” Amita questioned, pushing away from the crates. Vol crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yeah? Well… my father too, of course,” Vol admitted, scratching the back of his neck now. Loa, she made him nervous, “lots of expectations are on my shoulders.”

Amita hummed in agreement, fiddling with the waist of her white dress.

She surprised him when she wrapped her arms around his chest, pressing her head against his shoulder. It felt nice - and then comforting, when Vol wrapped his arms around her. Amita sighed contentedly.

In the background, she could hear the others, chattering exuberantly. It was so different from the still nights in the jungle, with nothing but Jashik’s breathing to keep her company, and the sounds of insects. It was better than when she heard the careful steps of a tiger, drawing closer, and better than when Jashik would rise up, stalking toward the mouth of the cave with menacing growls rumbling from the back of his throat; better than when the raptor would suddenly lunge into the darkness, shrieking a battle cry.

Vol’s nervous heartbeat was loud in Amita’s ear. She relaxed against him.

“You’re warm,” she muttered, eyes closed. Vol’s embrace tightened. She relaxed against him further, once again sighing contentedly.

“An--”

“You feel like  _ home _ .”

Vol tried to look at her. Between his tusks, and her resting her head on his shoulder, looking at her was impossible.

He slid his arms down to her waist instead, causing Amita to lean back. Their noses touched when she finally looked up at him, and immediately Amita shoved her head under his chin. Vol chuckled as heat rose to his cheeks.

“And you feel like home too,” he said, a blissful smile claiming his lips. Amita made a noncommittal sound, shaking her head, and Vol tried to look down at her again.

_ ‘Will I  _ **_ever_ ** _ learn?’ _ he asked himself, unaware that he was now smoothing his hands along Amita’s hips - until she unburied her face from under his chin, looking up at him with one brow raised in question, and a sly smirk on her mouth.

“Tryna’ warm me with your rays, sunshine~?” her tone was endearing, voice a purr. Vol blushed furiously and jerked his hands away from her hips. It didn’t help when her teeth slid over her lip, or when she tilted her head down  _ just _ a little more, to gaze at him through her lashes.

In retaliation, Vol clapped his hands to her waist again. Her hands flew to his chest, her alluring gaze giving way to wide-eyes and nervous lips.

“Maybe I am, moonlight. Or, maybe I’m trying to trap you,” he smirked, “you never know.”

Amita pouted at him, curling her fingers in his open vest, “you just want to keep me in one place.”

“Never let you out of my sight.”

“Keep me cradled in your sky?” she crooned, batting her eyes at him. Vol nearly took several steps back.

“Keep me cradled in  _ yours? _ ” he countered instead, determined not to let her gain the upper hand here. She blushed furiously. He mimicked Amita’s earlier lip bite, because two could play at this game, and raised both brows at her, “well?”

“I don’t really know why you would want to be in  _ my _ sky,” Amita muttered, eyes going askance, “not sure what sorta’ comfort the sun would find there…”

“Your sky is full of stars,” Vol whispered, stepping closer to her. She shuffled back, and he followed, “it would be like being held in a  _ million _ hugs - who wouldn’t want that?”

Amita  _ giggled _ : cute, and twinkling, and he stared at her with parted lips because it was the most adorable sound he had ever heard. He could only stare at her, eyes shifting to Amita’s neck, then back to her face.

She stared at him too - then noticed that Vol had unintentionally backed her up to the crates she’d been leaning against. Her face grew extra hot, and she pushed against his chest, swallowing thickly.

“S-so, I think it’s nearly been twenty minutes!! Zal is, um, probably gonna’ come lookin’ for you soon.”

Vol pulled his hands away from Amita, lips pressed into a thin line, “you’re right. Best we go back.”

Amita nodded, then stifled a yawn, “I think... I wanna’ go back to the hut. I’m sleepy.”

Vol laughed softly, and the two began walking back to the bonfire, side by side, “moonlight needs her beauty sleep, eh?”

“Oh you!” Amita slapped his arm; Vol laughed again. She liked the sound.

“I’m not wrong!”

“You are  _ all _ sorts of wrong!” Amita declared, and pulled ahead of him. With the bonfire in sight, she called, “Vanira!!”

The shaman raised her head - and Amita flushed under Vanira’s suspicious gaze.

“Where were you? Were you with Vol?” her gaze grew more suspicious when Amita fumbled for an answer, “what were you two doing?”

“Oooo!! I know, I know!” Legati waved his free arm around frantically, still having his other wrapped around Luxanai. His grin was  _ horribly _ cheeky, “they were kiiiissiiiing~”

Amita wanted to deny it, of course. She wanted to insist that Legati was wrong, that they were  _ all _ wrong. The moment Legati had brought it up, the rest of the group seemed to agree, though Soratha had the most confused expression Amita had ever seen written over his face. He’d finally pulled his nose out of his book.

And instead of vehemently denying what Legati assumed she and Vol had been up to, Amita beamed. With a dramatic sigh, and a clasp of her hands under her chin, she exclaimed, “oh, of course!! We were over there, snoggin’ up a storm-- isn’t that right,  _ sunshine _ ?”

Amita turned to Vol, giving him the slyest smile she could manage. His cheeks were red.

“Play along, Vol,” she mouthed, and after half-a-second, a smirk pulled at his lips. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

“Oh yeah.”

“Yeah,” she wrapped her arms around his waist, “you’re  _ such _ a good kisser.”

“Mmhm,” Vol’s chest shook with barely contained chuckles. Amita pressed closer to him, batting her eyes.

“So tasty.”

“Tell me more~”

“Just the  _ best _ .”

Legati was wheezing with laughter. Their other year mates released a chorus of both cheers and groans.

“Where did you even  _ learn _ that… uh…” and the force Zalazane had started with disappeared. Amita had to crane her neck to try and look at the disgruntled witch doctor over her shoulder.

“You might be surprised by my  _ extensive _ vocabulary~” she purred, watching with interest when Zalazane grumbled under his breath. Amita turned her attention back to Vol when Zalazane looked up at her with a scowl. She fluttered her eyes at her red-haired companion again. Vol’s smirk widened.

“Honestly, I could  _ just _ go on and on~ You have surprisingly smooth lips!”

Amita could only guess. Vol leaned closer, shifting his weight to one leg, “I could say the same for  _ you _ , moonlight.”

She giggled, and blushed, and the little audience the two had was forgotten despite their groans and whispered encouragements.

Vanira rather suddenly squeezed between Amita and Vol, grabbing Amita by the hand once Vol had been forced to let her go. The shaman’s cheeks were a deep red. Amita was startled back to the reality of the situation - even if she was perfectly fine continuing her daydream of  _ maybe _ kissing the smirking boy in front of her.

“Okay, okay!! You two didn’t do  _ anything _ , we get it!” she shot a glare at Legati, who put his hands up in surrender - though chuckles still shook his shoulders, “I’ll take Amita home now.”

Amita waved at the group over her shoulder as Vanira dragged her off. Vol shot her a wink when her eyes passed over him, and she giggled. She quickened her step to stay alongside Vanira.

It didn’t escape Amita’s attention that Vanira was particularly flustered. Her grip on the druid’s hand was tighter than Amita was used to, and her step was furious. Vanira was leaving heavy indents in the soft sand as they walked at the strange, brisk pace.

“What  _ were _ you two up to, then?” Vanira asked once more when the two were half-way home, and before Amita could muster up the courage to ask what was bothering her friend.

“We were talkin’, Vanira. We’ve both been so busy - him more so than me - and we don’t see each other very often,” she gave Vanita a smile when the shaman looked back at her suspiciously, “honestly, Vanira. I know that we didn’t really need to sneak off like that, but I’m still not used to talkin’ with him when others are around. Everyone would just tease us like they teased Legati, and Ani.”

Her smile faltered when Vanira’s ears flicked down.

After ten more steps of uneasy silence, Amita quietly asked, “are you jealous?”

Vanira inhaled deeply, coming to a halt so sudden that Amita bumped into her.

“... no.”

Amita frowned, “why would you be jealous?”

“I-I’m not!!” Vanira insisted, though when she turned to face Amita, her cheeks were red again. Amita’s frown deepened. She released Vanira’s hand, but the shaman kept her grip.

“L-listen,” Vanira adamantly continued, “I’m just flustered. Not jealous. Legati doesn’t know when to quit, I was worried that it would make you uncomfortable…”

_ ‘I don’t believe you- plus,  _ **_you_ ** _ were the one who wanted to know what Vol and I had been up to,’ _ Amita wanted to say. Vol had known Vanira for most of his life, and way before he had even met Amita. The druid wasn’t sure why both Zalazane, and now Vanira, were so adamant about claiming they weren’t jealous, even after all the time that Vol had spent chasing Amita around the jungles instead of spending time with his close friends.

Wouldn’t it be natural to be jealous?

Amita sighed, shaking her head when Vanira pouted at her, “I think I’m well adjusted to Legati’s tomfoolery.”

“Oh my Loa Amita.”

“He’s a  _ real _ quaint clown, that one,” Amita continued, smiling as Vanira fought valiantly against letting a large grin spread over her lips, “a real bugger that one. And  _ obnoxious!! _ What a villain!!”

Vanira wheezed with laughter the rest of the walk home.


End file.
